At first it lingers

frustration brewing

fears sparked

Movements that don’t 

flow, glide, settle

Breathing ragged

emotions heightened

wistful glances to the 

past

…

It burns a hole

through which a 

whole can emerge

Glances of superiority 

become flashes of 

understanding, empathy, relief

The pedestal

slowly lowering

for all the struggling

striving, battered ones

Of which we are now 

the first to lift our 

weary hands

…

Is it a curse or a gift?

A bomb or bouquet?

Perhaps it is

the only way

we evolve.

This post is part of the Five Minute Friday writing challenge. Each week I join with this talented group of writers, free writing for five minutes in accordance with a prompt. Today’s prompt is ‘weak’.