Disappointment

He stands imposingly in the doorway.
Broad shouldered, darkly staring me down.
Accusing. Glaring. Denouncing.

I steal a look at him and run weakly to my hiding spot,
like an injured rabbit.
Where my eyes grow bloodshot hot
and my heart red heavy.
Foolish. Scared. Embarrassed.

It seems impossible to face him.

To go up against him nose to nose.
Confident. Empowered. Believing.

I would rather not take the risk.
And turn inward.
Quiet. Paralyzed. Numb.

Or I would rather fight him like a crazy woman.
Swing my fist into his jaw, hair flying insanely.
Wild. Angry. Hurt.

Instead.

I will pick myself up.
I will walk calmly towards him.
I will give him a steel look in the eye.
Mouth set, I will say firmly,
"Move over. I am coming through."

Faith-filled. Moving forward. Expecting God's best.