Stepping on Ice

As her eyes
skim the
silent ground,
the icy ground,
she waits for fear.
And from her cracking lips
escapes a
suffocating breath,
while her heart beats on steadily. 
She waits.
She waits for the 
voice in her head,
telling her to stop.
Telling her to be careful,
to be cautious.
But as of this moment,
this frozen,
quiet moment,
nothing is speaking of such to her.
Not the gossiping trees,
not the whispering wind,
not even the birds
that are shivering from the chill
of the biting frost. 
It is time for her mind to move,
time for her limbs to move.
And as she steps onto the ice,
her breath catches. 
This pause in reality,
this moment in which
her mind questions everything,
is the moment that makes her foot slide.
As she steps onto the ice,
she's wondering what will happen.
As she steps onto the ice,
she's afraid.
As she steps onto the ice,
she doesn't want to go any further,
so she stops herself,
and she falls. 
But fear comes around like this,
time
after time,
after time again,
and she will never outrun it.
And so she stands up,
recovery flooding her thoughts,
and as she steps onto the ice once more,
that fear is what pushes her to glide.