Without First Looking

By Andrew R. Duckworth

As I stand on the shore,
I reflect on my own aggravation,
The irony of standing at the shore
Rather than getting my feet wet.
I often speak words
My actions can barely reflect-
Fear chains me to the dock,
Reflects back to me on the
Face of the cold water
A boy who hides far too often
And is rarely certain of anything.
Sometimes, I wish to be fearless,
To take that first step
Without first looking.