on fear and writing

what does it take
to write                        the thing

you’re most afraid of
I’m most afraid of?

is it courage
or something else?
something like… exhaustion

I am tired of living with things inside me
that I cannot–do not dare to–name

but even then, when a decision is made
how to find
the right space
for the feeling
to take form

how to decide
which part of the story
is worth telling
which story I want to–need to–tell

the thing, or things, I’m most afraid of…
some have quiet bodies
slither across the ground of my memory
out of sight
like serpents I cannot grasp
for fear the trembling
of my hands

some exist as shadows
at dusk
or in the early morning light
blending, fading
into and away
before I have the chance to ascertain their

how, then, to write
with letters rigid
as the crisp of March in New England
to write something
like formlessness
and to give it form
it must have
it must be named
it must be tamed
this something alive
in order for it to be


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