By: Linda M Crate

caught in a reflection
of my past
my fingers can’t break through the glass
to the reality
for i fear the pain of it,
and i know i must overcome this
nightmare
if i’m ever to become the king;
but sometimes i wonder
if kings really do have it all because the responsibility
would be a lot for my shoulders to bear—
it’s a heavy choice,
and these ocean waves seem to scream my name
where the mermaids know me;
and my bones ache
to swim,
but something tells me i must become more than this
fragile existence that has come to comfort me
that if i’m to get anywhere
i must become king—
have always been caught on the jagged wing of anticipation
waiting for a moment i never knew until now, until now
and staring at the reflections of the past
it doesn’t seem as good as i remember but it doesn’t seem
as terrifying as this;
so i hold my breath and jump—
i must be king
even it terrifies me.