Free to Speak
Balancing the polarity of righteous indignation and smoldering rage that has been a puss in
my belly since I was a small child,
a walk that has felt like being on a tight rope high above the crowd.
Will I fall, will I be humiliated, will I be laughed at, left alone in a heap when the show is over.
What if I shouted- turn off the music, stop the show, listen to me;
You see my smiling face, my beautiful body, my ability to help you feel Awe,
I love to do this but I ask you do you see Me?
The little one underneath, the survivor, are you willing to see her,
Can your stomach hold the truth?
The little one who survived, abuse, violence, poverty, trauma, addiction
The little girl who kept going, rising above, rising through her own darkness,
Who wanted more!
Who stood in her truth and the truth of those for whom she speaks, works, and writes.
Can you contemplate that I am you, you are me and we are all one.
I see it, can you?
One must learn to feel and speak from their own vulnerability to understand this tightrope,
Come on give it a try
Really what is to fear, you will cry a little, shake a lot and come all undone
And yes there will be those who are not yet ready and choose to turn away