I am a play-acting leader wandering aimlessly,
Trudging up and down each ridge and valley,
Marching headstrong on twisted paths unknowing;
Eager to say ‘Here is the way, follow me.’
I set off young, ill-equipped, and eagerly,
To a distant snow-capped peak I aimed to journey,
Heavy burdensome pack filled to overflowing;
Doubt, inexperience, arrogant insecurity.
In each palm five tiny digits clasped firmly,
My delightful, loving, innocent responsibility,
Yet cradled deep within another growing;
Swaddled in armoured layers deceptively.
I now know I am the king of a fortress nursery,
Revealed to me by their lips curled mockingly,
To veiled contempt, through muffled laughter owing;
They all scorn the child I refused to see.
Now too great the burden’s intensity,
A suffocating pack and no hands free,
Foundation’s cracked, there is no more going;
Deep within a child cries desperately.
In this storm of clear and urgent necessity,
Heed those mocking faces – growth requires honesty –
King’s garments stripped as the tempest continues blowing;
I, reborn and naked before you, stand awkwardly.