I lie in the dark on my performance high. I'm exhausted but not ready to let go, just floored by the sheer power of performance. Of words. Of story and truth and how connected we all really are. Tonight I stood in front of a room full of people and spoke into a microphone. The stage lights made it so that faces were obscured, just my voice, my truth, loud through the amplifier. My inner theatre major re-found her voice and I pulsed through each piece of my poem. I was the chola locker neighbor with the Aqua Net, I was in seventh grade again applying concealer to my bottom lip, I was in a dark room listening to The Smiths. I let loose and told truths and dug deep tonight. It's been twenty six years in the making. And still, even here, I won't elaborate on theme, won't publish what I read tonight for a crowd.
Oh the muscles to choose to share my story.
Oh the muscles found to commit.
The soul grounded strut away from the podium.