On the Threshold

I stand on the threshold of Adventure.

I have written him love letters,

Tear-stained, open-hearted, hope letters,

But as I hold hands with the unknown

 

I realize

 

That I am afraid.

 

I’m afraid that I don’t know myself well enough to promise anything.

 

I’m afraid that I’ll sign up for the marathon and forget how to walk.

 

I’m afraid that my life will always be half-finished projects, broken promises, “we should hang out sometime”s, and hidden tears.

 

I am afraid that I will crash.

 

I am afraid that Adventure made empty promises,

that dancing with Him will only leave me bruised,

that He will look into my eyes with disappointment and say, “You’re not good enough.”

 

 

But above all

I am afraid

 

That I’ll never step past the threshold.

 

h.b.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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