It Is Time

It is time to banish thoughts of giving up,
To be replaced by the comfort of giving in.
Acceptance rather than flight.
To fold back the shutters,
Emerging from the dark of night,
Allowing in some light.

It is time to cease the role of the bully
Forcing the fearful child within,
To be the man he thought he should.
Instead, enfolding in a loving hug,
To draw out all he could
Have been. If only he had understood.

It is time to give the boy a chance,
To give him space to play his part,
To let him fall and graze his elbow,
Blood and gravel,
Even though tears may flow.
He may be strong enough. How else will we know?

It is time to take those steps,
That cross the threshold of that door.
To find that it was open all along,
Never locked,
And behind it, the voice of the song,
Oft heard, though always sounding slightly wrong.

It is time to push on through the fog,
That cloak of damp that so confuses senses,
Seeking clearer skies,
Different colours, other forms,
To try on for size.
Who knows how those choices may surprise?

It is time to give in,
Not to temptation, hopelessness or terror,
But to follow the path to those imagined lands,
Shaping their form
With my own hands.
Finally, he understands.

(c) Tim O’Hare, August 2023

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About this poem: This poem came completely out of the blue, coalescing onto the page in less than an hour. It reflects a big decision made on the previous day – to signal that I must let go of a big role at work, to stop fighting with the thought that to do so was some kind of failure and to just accept that I no longer have it within me to push and cajole and fight with myself anymore.