Being creative in public

I used to write short stories and poems, but somewhere along the line I became afraid to share and eventually just … stopped writing.

But life is too short to live inauthentically.

Yesterday, in a travel-weary state of mind, I challenged myself to write something, anything. Because I’ve been reconnecting with my love of poetry, that’s where I went.

And today I’m taking the plunge. I’m sharing what I wrote before my inner critic has time to build up a persuasive case to stay quiet.

Stories I Used to Tell Myself

Disabled is
other people.

The glass
that mediates
my daily existence?
Only window dressing,
I’m fine.

The catch
in my breath,
it’s so mild.
I carry help just in case, but
I’m fine.

The neurons
don’t always keep up,
others have it worse.
I sought help, but trust me
I’m fine.

No matter that
I am not enough to survive
this game unaided
on my own,
I’m fine.

Disabled?
Too strong of a word.

Disabled?
Naw.
Not me.