The mind whispers to me in clichés,
Snippets of repetitive phrases
Learned from a lifetime as a sponge.
Sometimes I speak back,
Challenging its elementary wording,
And it pauses, wide-eyed,
Like a child who was interrupted
While deeply immersed
In a game of make-believe.
Part of me fears posting a poem… Fears setting aside the typical humor and doodles for something a little more pensive.
This fear (of what people think, of not living up to expectations, of letting people down, etc.) would have prevented me from posting something of this nature in the past.
This blog, though. There’s something magical about this blog for me. I can feel it. It’s a visceral feeling of inspiration and safety and support that stems from within.
This blog is my allowance. It’s my permission slip… To be and share exactly who I am each and every day.
What’s your permission slip?