By Stephanie Arsoska of Beautiful Misbehaviour | @StephArsoska
Courage is not the burly beast
but the wee creature
the tiny word fluttering in your heart, whispering
Keep going
Courage is not the elegant eagle taking to the sky with wing and might
but the baby bird
flinging itself free from the nest for the first time to tumble towards the earth
Courage is not the rambling rose climbing the washed white cottage wall
but the cactus
Digging down deep into the dry desert sand
It is the mouse before the lion
David picking up his stone
The mid-birth mother
It is the slow raise of an uncertain hand
the solitary walk across a crowded room
It is The Pen scratching against the paper
the click of send
It is opening your mouth to speak when the world is screaming hush
It is the hush
Sitting in silence with another
It is the neighbor who knocks
the hand that reaches out
it is
hello
Courage is not the result
but the work
the burnt candle
The fingers spinning through the night
The spider
weaving, weaving, weaving
things of beauty she knows will never last
It is holding onto the wish
tending the dream
growing the garden in winter
It is keeping an eye on the stars
and knowing you are made from the same stuff
Courage wears funny clothes
says thing that don’t make sense
sounds weird, looks strange
Is ignored, disbelieved, ridiculed
has no friends, does not fit in
does not like to look in the mirror
but looks anyway
Courage is the battle cry before the fight begins
It is the tender touch
the delicate brush of faith
It is Anne in the annex
Rosa on the bus
Helen with the word water on her hand
It is the ordinary fire fighter at the foot of the burning tower
The student stood before the tank
The man who sparks a revolution with the flames of his own flesh
The mother who refuses to be silenced
It is the farmer in the field
breaking his back in all weathers
dirt under nail, blister in boot
It is sailing solo
round the world under the moon
in a tiny water-logged boat
It is the child who sees beyond the teacher,
and the teacher who really sees the child
Courage is the failure
The mess, the disaster
It shelters in the rubble at your feet
Nestles in the dust and the ash
It is the climb up the dirt track with no fence
Nothing to stop you falling into the water below.
Courage is in the cracks
The in-between
the deep breaths
the pause
the moment before
and the stillness after
Courage is in the being
in the making
doing,
standing
running
talking
walking
breathing
living
ordinary
day by day
choice
of being
you.
* * *
Stephanie Arsoska is based in Scotland and blogs at www.beautifulmisbehaviour.com where she writes about motherhood and creativity.