And now I go alone.
I breathe.
From time to time
I'm stopped by trees
of fears that like branches spread
and free_ze my moves.
Eyes closed,
ahead
of me
I see the emptiness.
I need to face it,
to confess,
accept all what emerges dirt
that fills my mind;
attend the court
of self-possessive guilt and shame.
Myself – and no one else – to blame
I ought.
I must resolve it all
and find a way to stop this ball
of wrecking damage to my world.
The verdict will be always bold:
Forgive.
Let go.
Of all be free.
Look at the fear.
Pass that tree.
Fear Tree
© Copyright: Светлана Дудорова, 2019
Свидетельство о публикации №119092108710
Свидетельство о публикации №119092108710
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