When I think of the best of me, the first thing that instantly comes to my mind is poetry. Since a tender age, I have always nurtured a great passion for writing. There is something just so therapeutic about recording your thoughts in verse. I have always considered poetry a great medium to write not only about worldly emotions such as happiness, but also the purely imaginary.
I like to believe that over the years I have refined my writing style, courtesy of my love for reading. I dedicate the poem below to my parents because among many life lessons, they have taught me that fear is a perfectly natural human emotion. To feel fear is not a sign of weakness but of strength; it is to acknowledge that we are afraid of losing something or someone.
To fear our past,
Is to condone the present.
To lose ourselves in an all-encompassing whirlpool of lost lovers,
And words never uttered.
To fear the present,
Is to indulge in a bygone era.
To miss the scintillating shine of sunset,
Or the alluring aroma of freshly brewed coffee.
To fear blemishes in our character,
Is to spurn self-worth.
And moments of bitter failure and sweet success,
That make us who we are today.
To fear the future,
Alas! A flaw engrained in mankind.
To control an ungovernable force,
That is only determined by our present.
To fear failure,
Is to reconcile effort with success.
To equate failed tests with foregone opportunities,
To see your capabilities reflected in red marks on paper.
To fear teardrops,
Is to subdue the uncontainable energy of our souls.
And refuse to acknowledge that we are vulnerable,
And prone to imperfections too.
To fear loss of loved ones,
Is to respect our roots.
To acknowledge those who have so painstakingly painted,
Each fragment of our personality.
To fear is beautiful,
It is to concede that we are mortal,
It galvanizes action and instils purpose,
It evokes inspiration and sparks creativity,
To fear is to relish moments,
Seize time for we fear its evanescence.
It is to display strength,
And to accept that we are only mortal.
This piece is submitted in loving memory of Tabitha Ho. She wrote this for her English class when she was 16, shortly before she passed away a year later. She left a little too soon but her wit, contagious laughter and love for poetry and French...
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