Portrait - NaPoWriMo Day 7

The King of Hearts spoke to me
as the Hare called me as the only
one who could remember.
Just how many times do I have to
encounter Our Town, that
bland set, bland script, bland
idea?
There’s something about the
space of a stage, where a new
skin can be worn, where your face
becomes another’s. Just for a
while.
It can be practice for life, you
know. To show up in a shirt
that’s supposed to be tucked in.
Interviews as performance. The
day to day of presenting at staff
meetings. You always seem so
comfortable.” It must have been
all those passes at Wilder’s work.
And it can be practice for living
authentically. Methods aren’t just
for actors.
That was another life ago, it seems.
Yet it lives within me to this
day, as a calling for a time.
A stepping stone in a life. Much like
each moment asks of us.

April 7, 2019 · poems


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