Waterfall
by Laura Wakefield
Stepping into my passion hurts a little.
My truth.
The dreams that call my soul. I actively participated in building this wall that holds them back.
Stone by stone. Choice by choice.
Creating a fortress that felt like safety.
Bound within facades of my own making.
Hiding from the unknown.
Aching to break through.
Fear became both protector and captor. Cautiously at first.
Chiseling carefully at the mortar I once toiled to set in place.
Knowing that the flood to be unleashed will come with a wildness and fury.
Washing away parts of me I hesitate to lose.
Long held habits and expectations.
Masks of anonymity.
A sense of security that is false, but for the illusion of pretending. Freedom flows slowly over the edge now, and the water is warm.
The time has come to summon courage.
Tear the last defenses down.
Allow the currents of trust and faith to take me where they will.
To flow.
To rest.
To rise anew.
Untethered and alive at last. Stepping into my passion hurts a little.
But it’s the sweetest kind of pain that leads to joy.
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