Years of security,
self-assurance
vanish in a single moment:
the pre-destined moment arrives
and we are panic-stricken,
paralyzed.
These people are no longer the
friendly folk we have come to know.
They are sharks, and we are
tiny,
tiny,
swallowed up.
But we force ourselves out again,
back into public view.
And by brute force,
overcome our fears,
become ourselves;
and each time becomes
easier and
easier,
until we recover,
and become ourselves once more,
or at least
mostly
so.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
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One Art, to recognize, must be,
Another Art to Praise.
- Emily Dickinson