The paralyzing fear called doubt
seeps in through every hollow place,
fighting fragility, I slide backward;
losing my grip, focus fading-
procrastination lurking there
like a familiar old friend for dinner.
the beady-eyed face of tomorrow
staring, like that blackbird on a wire
tempting me to fall again.
Then, light saunters in
like a flower through a crack;
in the middle of winter.
© Linda Bullerwell, 2016