Do I dare?

This poem is dedicated to and inspired from TS Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.

Do I dare blemish with steps

The blank sheet of first snow?

Pristine eternal of infinite possibility

Promised by blank slates

Reigning down, shrouding what was

In a seeming perpetuity of

Endless doors swinging open.

Do I dare disturb this?


Do I dare dip my toe into

The deceptively uneven river of life?

Creating currents where none be,

Violating the equanimities that embalms us.

To say, do, try that which feels stupid,

Unnerving, impossible, overwhelming

Is to feel the depths on your face,

Idiocy that risks drowning,

Yet some would say that is life.


Do I dare live life?

Camus’ question precipitates my heart,

But not as it did him.

Do I dare “put myself on the line”.

To hurt and hurt again?

But the romantic embraces the drama

For without pain you never find

The beauteous summit, the salvatory, salivatory moment.

Through the struggle there lies

A redemption worth finding.

When life like a sea or a snake restless

Rears its ugly head, thrashing plans to oblivion,

Hope eternal abounds in faces new and old

To return, conjoin and like muscle torn

After strain, give more strength

To go again, laugh, hurt, live, hurt

And love, hurt, all over.

For the bravery in the face of overwhelming,

Old and new, is always rewarded.


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