Sometimes (I can)

Sometimes I stop myself

from being




Sometimes I stop myself

from saying what I want,

from allowing my voice to be heard ,

by peers

by an anonymous group

by myself.

I stop myself

from asking questions

or answering questions.

Sometimes I dip my toe into the water only to pull it back

so as to not feel the icy cold shiver

or the slimy, squishy bottom

or the pull of the tide.

Sometimes I stop myself even though it might be warm

and liberating

and light will bounce off the water and on to my cheeks.

I stop myself

because once I drown.

because once I fell.

because once I screwed it up over and over and continue to screw it up

because once I didn’t try hard enough and everyone knows it

because once I only did it half way and then quit.

And everyone knows it.

And then sometimes,

I open my mouth

Knowing my voice will creak and my palms will sweat so much that the wetness bleeds all over my ballpoint notes

Knowing that what will come out may sound like a canned pop song when in my head it was an aria.

but that

birds may fly out :

Small perfect yellow canaries

and nurturing red bellied robins

and loud, wise crows.

They may fly out

 and amaze and delight.

Sometimes, I put my hand up.

Knowing that my thought is just one dull star in a milky way of brilliant light

Knowing maybe no one will pick me. That blood will rush from my hand from hanging in space for so long

But that I might put my hands up so high I touch planets

And that touching alternate atmospheres and firey gases will light me up brighter.

Sometimes, I jump in.

Knowing my bathing suit has nestled itself between my cheeks

Knowing my wet hair pressed against my head makes my large sticking out ears more large and more sticky outy

But that the saltwater will heal the cuts on my leg

And will rest on my lips making my beer all the more delicious at the end of the day.

Sometimes I can be salty delicious

And firery bright

And delightfully amazing.

Sometimes if I stop myself from stopping myself

I can.


A number of times this week I have bumped up against this thought: “Who do you think you are?” As tantalizing creative ideas surface, as aspects of my life shift, as certain desires grow stronger, I am met with that question. But I am working on pushing through – mostly because I know the reward out weights the anguish.

What fear is stopping you from catapulting yourself to a bright, new stratosphere? What small step could you make to push past the fear?

Click & Tweet This: This post/poem ( has me thinking – what I am I going to do to move past fear toward my next goal.




5 thoughts on “Sometimes (I can)

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