What if you need a ticket to get in the final show? Or the creator’s a superhero, and you can’t get saved unless you cry out in distress? There’s so much groveling I’ve learned to suppress. Fingers skip hot lava on tiny black stones, and I’m not sure they’ll make it out before the stone wall is closed. I’m a vase walking around without a bouquet. The fear of emptiness and mediocrity. Yes, there are too many ways to not escape. On dry days, I’m terrified of my own company, convinced that the bulbs I’ve planted may never grow.
The bulb of self-doubt
planted in the off-season;
fear is flowering.
© khartless 2021, All Rights Reserved
Frank is host for d’Verse’s Hiabun Monday and the topic is fear. Join us in sharing a haibun poem inspired by fear.