I M Perfect lady

Tag: poetry

  • I write so I can listen.

    In the Little White church on Finlandia’s campus a poet spoke, his words didn’t rhyme but instead they took us on mini tours into the complex moments on his personal journey. (Randy Freisinger)

    He described his style as narrative and was introduced as an accessible poet, and it didn’t seem it required nothing of us.

    All we had to do was sit back and listen to his tales of youthful freedoms turning naiveté into knowing or be an eavesdropper watching life speed out of control, to the silent wisdom of aging it’s secret never told, into viewing prejudice from where we were grown.

    These wonderful narratives were well written and easy to follow and I guess accessible, but what he didn’t tell us is that we would either feel an affinity with his desire to know or the screaming fear of not wanting to go where he’s been.

    It is one thing to be a silent observer into another’s life, but do you have the courage to openly and loudly explore your own?

    Can you tell a narrative of your life, the troubled spots and not just give us details of the sunny days?

    Will you give to me the places that brought you to your knees and then how you managed to stand back up?

    How deep does your narrative go?

    How much of yourself do you know?

    I felt affirmed as I listened to him.

    I understood that writing doesn’t rhyme in my narrative either, it has its own unique style and it’s own individual way of speaking to me. I write and I listen, I ask and am told.

    I have an intimate relationship with writing and I believe that it trusts me as well, that I will write what needs to be written and I will tell my tale no matter how uncomfortable or scared I am, I will put words to paper and my truths will be known.

    Writing has been my most honest friend; it has given me the courage to face what I didn’t want to face, to speak the unspeakable and to know more than I needed to know.

    It is the oddest thing; it brings me where I don’t want to go yet I am eager to arrive. It tells me things I don’t want to hear yet I am an eager listener.

    I left that little church once again knowing that I am a writer, that I have a narrative to tell.

    I write so I can listen.

  • The Wise Listened

    I only spent one hour in her presence and wanted to follow her home, and in fact we may have been behind her motor home as she left our town, I had the chance but turned off as our road appeared, allowing her to leave me wanting more.

    It wasn’t so much her story but rather the affirmations I felt as I listened to her.  I wanted more.

    Her story and mine shared some similar roads, and I could see how her courage was grown, how she shined in her individuality how comfortable she is in her skin, although I know it wasn’t always so.

    She spoke of her childhood in a tone of ‘this is what it was’ marveling with us and showing us how those steps were gifts that she used to become who she is today. 

    Dr. Maya Angelou.

    From an abused mute child to one who had us all sitting in rapt attention to each word, insight and profound wisdom she uttered.

    Maybe we can’t listen to another until they have something worthwhile to share.

    She has enough wisdom inside, and I feel I just got one little tiny peek.

    A peek of who I will be!

    She makes life seem only worthwhile if it is colorful; with characters and scenes that put fiction to shame.

    It’s like the more you suffer, the better the storyteller you will become and how much more interesting the story will be to tell.

    She didn’t hide the ‘shameful’ parts, rather she allowed them their truths to stand equal to the kinder parts, the happier times and she weaved them all together into one strand of self.

    The audience followed her as she led us on her journey as we sampled a few moments of significance that made her who she is today.

    A colorful woman telling us this isn’t a rehearsal, so get on and live life.

    Thanks Dr. Maya Angelou for taking the journey to come and speak to us today.

    We are just another spot on her journey, and she a spot in ours.

    A connection and energy exchanged.

    I left feeling she was giving us a hand up, as she reminded us of all who came before us, what their cost was, and how we don’t have the right to waste our time being less than who we can be.

     A wise woman sat on that stage and the wise listened.