Fear of Heights

 

The pen demands perfection

It’s weaker cousins –pencil, keyboard, nib

Allow for mistakes –backing up, taking stock

But ink is unforgiving in its pursuit,

Knowing no eraser will make new

The error of misstep.

Permanent.

A laser cutting into stone

A dangerous instrument in the wrong moment,

The wrong mood, the wrong circumstance,

Damning its operator to judgment

By peers, by posterity, by God.

It is a terrifying weapon to the soul

To the ego fragile as glass – thinly spun.

But I cannot keep it locked safely away

My weapon of choice

I am drawn to its power

Enchanted by the potential and dizzy with implications

I pick it up… Heavier, much heavier than I recalled

My hand shakes unsure at first

One word, two. But ten my stomach

Begins to calm and I’m floating

For better or worse. Moments expand

And I fly ever so cautiously

Feeding myself only thoughts of passion and success

Not slowing enough for my mind to comprehend

The death defying feat I am pursuing

Forcing myself to forget that I am terrified of heights,

I write.