The following piece came from an idea by Dom from Thoughts of a Rambling Psyche. I gave him three words to write into a poem, and he gave me three words in return. His words for me (mountain, struggle, and taste) inspired the direction of this poem. Hope you enjoy, and please check out Dom’s blog!
What is the taste of fear?
Bitter, beyond salty, and just a dash of bewildering,
my mouth senses the horror before me.
Crippled in my weakened state,
I am in full contact with this struggle,
rocky and rugged among the thickness of unclean air.
A pathetic tunnel vision this is,
failing to even acknowledge the smaller mounds surrounding me,
the ones that would make for good practice.
Time and time after, the same lesson is preached:
worry about the molehills first,
then the mountain.