. . . and here we go . . . I’m stepping out of my silence, my life-happenstance imprisonment that has choked my poetic voice to an occasional whisper and stepping on stage to speak rhythmic words that may mean nothing to anyone else but me. This used to be my everything and though it needn’t return to that level of absolution, it should still . . . return. So, armed with faith, trust in the former me and the strength in her that has propelled me over hurdles, and my necessity to dream free or die, I’m stepping out of the darkness and into my joy.
Nervous. Not terribly confident. Unsure of self. Flat out scared. But, in remembering who I used to be in this thing, and how I used to feel coupled with the feelings I evoked – I know I’ll be alright. I may stumble or stutter, freeze or tear-up – but press forward, I will.
You have a similar step in your story? Tell me about it.