In every creative work, in any meaningful work there’s always a point of vulnerability,
When the narrative retracts from the speaker and acknowledges the author
When the protagonist reflects on their wrongdoings
When the actor is telling their story onstage, or
When my poets flip the mirror back from the world and unto themselves.
And then I am vulnerable
I’m exposed for the nasty wad of human flesh I am
I’m no more precious than the dirt beneath our feet
No wiser than an infant, and far more foolish than any creature that roams the earth.
Oh, how open am I
How free am I?
The world has shifted the wind is cold, harsh, it devours my skin
But I’m more alive than I was swaddled in that jacket!
The wind has meaning now that it can touch me
My voice has meaning, as I must speak truthfully—
Be vulnerable, and don’t mock!
Being honest is being you
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