real time

i hadn't been to an open mic in a year and a half at least. i can be flaky sometimes but also i had other pressing commitments. endoresed by my husband, i am back in the scene and the timing is uncanny. it feels like the Lord is lifting me from this place of darkness and isolation to be among the living once again. and i rejoice.

a phenomenal poet named damascus said a line that i had to write down. "weaving shrouds of words."

another poet, jack ritter, read a poem about pain that left me speechless. when i told him i liked it, he said, he couldn't tell how it went over. and i said, i had nothing to say and that's a good thing.

next wednesday, i start helping (if he needs my help i do not know) a poet lead an open mic at a local barnes and noble. my offical gig, where i will settle in and get comfortable and let the people see me for who i am. impeccably flawed.

last night felt like i was truly present, alive. the smiles and kindness of the other poets always astounds me. they receive me so well, and i do the best i can to return the favor.

i usually sit with my eyes closed because i can't block out the visual input. but last night i read with my head down and projected my voice. it never really has been about the performance for me, it is all about the words. if they can get my words, if they can hear my poem, that is all that matters.

performance poets really astound me though, their inflections and rhythm, their spur of the moment genius. i don't know that i could launch out like that, on faith.

the vastness and variety of the works presented there, works that are not in print and may never be, precious words each one those are the real words. the living words. the kind that knit hearts and empower artists to be who they are created to be.

i came home and realized i have to let this poetry out. i can't keep it bottled up. the last seven or so poems i've written had not been seen or heard by anyone until now. if i can't share them with my most intimate circle of poets, i can't share them with anyone. and i don't intend to bury the gift. hide the talent. that sounds so proud. but it's not. it's mere acknowledgement that yes, i know i am a poet. and what i am created to do. and by the Grace of God, i'll do it. one word, one read, one person at a time.