Going- Reading

A piece of paper with
scribbled words
stares at me from its pedistal like
the dishes from the counters do-
expectantly:
"Give me words,
make them dance.
Now's the time,
here's your chance
to make me stay,
make me sway.
Make them heard.
Give me words,
words,
more words!" it nags,
and yes,
yes,
I will.

Now, I do not profess to be
prolific in prose-
so let's call this
a paragraph.
Annunciation is key,
motivation is lacking,
and I
am
suffocating!
So, I'm going...
Don't say no,
I'm going!
Do not allude to your
amusement at me and my
eager emancipation.
Just putter through your hallways
because they're calmer than your mind,
while I,
in my frail fortitude,
fly fearlessly forward
for what awaits:
my destiny,
my fate!
In me lies a passion not easily cast aside,
a dream,
a scheme to get my way,
a map of my road
not yet traveled;
a knot to every loose thread threatening to unravel,
a blunt determination,
inextinguishable,
unfathomable,
unyielding to incessant degredation,
to the phoenetic pronunciation
of all my faults,
my ineptitudes,
what I fear you
might
just
see.
Do not attempt to dis-courage,
for I have none for you to ravage.
I will not go in spite of you;

but with spite
for every insult,
every assault on my own vernacular,
every spectacular failure that I managed to accomplish
and never let myself forget.
With spite,
you see,
for me;
or for who I used to be,
the old me:
She who sat with open hands
and empty eyes!
She will see once and for all,
who I have become!
How I make thunder with my hands and feet
and create worlds,
Worlds, I say!
with my words...

Don't say I can't do this...
I've said it often enough.
I now know I can,
I am sure of it.
Imperfect,
but worth it:
I'm going.



Written Florida 2008