the unholy crippler
its face stays hidden
but runs interference
with the truth of things
and the passions that arrive
newly before us
we know that incessant grip
that keeps us standing at the trail heads
unable to walk those new paths
how it declares us unfit
for the world and unworthy
to step through opened doors
we know that powerful voice
tiny that it is
how it whispers to us
don’t go there—
don’t do that—
what will people think—
shall we stay then
in the safety of our old ways
or walk hand in hand
toward what is unknown before us—
from the beginning in the Garden
we were never meant to walk alone
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