speak softly

windermere peaks

i'm afraid.

something about the phrasing,
the two-worded cry,
is difficult to say.

i've spent a decade or two terrified,
dancing around tree branches so they don't snap,
and i don't make a sound.

i want so badly to find comfort in my hiccuping laugh.
i want so badly to let my voice echo.

but i am afraid.
and the frogs have cuddled my feet against the shore of this lake.
the crickets have strung a choir,
the leaves on the trees have twirled like kids in their new summer dresses,
oblivious to autumn ramming it's feet in this broken ground.

would you believe me if i told you,
i'm certainly the same?
i'm a shell under a shell,
withering away one-
just to hide under another.
i'm as honest as i know how,
when there's nothing to hide,
and nothing to say.

and i dream in pictures.
some of you,
some of my fears- coming to life,
stretching into the tallest trees that stand around me.

for so long i begged to be loved, simply because i was told it was not possible,
that the way i am is unbearable-
nearly dreadful to see.

but i've learned i can be loved.
that the lake will rise to meet my feet,
and allow me to wiggle my toes in the soil beneath.

but as i've grown,

i realize i don't fear being unloved.
i suppose-
i fear being unliked.

so i will let my shell grow in again once more,
until i've fought the frightened child within,
and i'm certain-
that you find me bearable,

even as the seasons have changed.