Igloo 2

My hands are cold--freezing.
I stand here, holding a block of ice
From the ceiling of my igloo.
Halfway down to the ground,
But halfway back up.
I stare at this block of ice,
Wondering if as soon as I put it down,
I will want to put it right back up.

So, I am stuck here.
Halfway down, halfway up.
It would be much easier right now,
If I just continued to carry it down
And set it down on the ground.
But I stand here,
Because I am not sure that I will not want
To put the ice block back as soon as it touched the ground.

My hands are freezing,
And my body is shaking.
What should I do?
Will I want this ice block back?
Will I prefer the land of solitude and ice
Over whatever lies outside the igloo?

Tiny water drops fall from my hands
As the ice begins to melt.
How much longer will I have to stand here?
When will I know what is the right choice?

Slowly, I lower the ice block to the ground,
Letting it go,
Today I will trust.
Today I will believe.
Tomorrow...will bring whatever it has planned.

Today I will trust.
Today I will have faith.
Today I will not be perfect.

I will just be me.