That's a Wrap

In case you are wondering, I am in a creative writing class and we are doing a poetry unit. I haven't written a poem since high school so anything I do write takes me all day. I am reminded how Rachel, in her senior year of high school, forgot about a poetry assignment in Mrs. Campbell's english class. She made an excuse to go to her locker, quickly jotted something down for her assignment, and received praise for an amazing poem, which was later published. Grrrrr...

Anyway, I had to write two poems and read them in front of the class yesterday. My stomach hurt and I was sweaty. The professor called someone's name, not mine and the readings began. My heart beat was fast and loud. In my head I kept saying,

" This is no big deal" or " C'mon professor, pick me fast before this gets worse" or

" Why am I so nervous? I get up in front of people all the time!"

The professor kept calling names and students would walk to the podium and recite. There were some doozies. A boy who hated religion, a girl who was angry at her boss (poem was titled Stick it to the Man) and a Iraq veteran who was clearly suffering. I still couldn't talk myself into calm. Then I began to worry that I would get emotional with so many nerves. Tears for me just happen and when they appear they are hard to control. I began scolding myself,

" There is NO WAY you can get emotional!!!" " Pull yourself together!"

And then one girl got up. She announced that her poem was about a girl getting an abortion. When she began reading my racing heart quit instantly and slowed. I felt the blood rush out of my face and by the time she was done, I felt sick. Not just heart-sick but really like I could throw up sick. My self talk began again,

" Oh boy, I don't want to be called up next after that!"

" oh please, oh please, oh please, oh please...not me, don't pick me."

I was grateful when he called out another name so I could gain some composure.

At last he called my name...I was the last to be picked. I slowly made my way to the podium and began reading,  RENDERING or REALITY(see poem below). I began and the tone of my voice sounded calm and it soothed me. At one point I heard it kind of catch, sounding a little too emotional. I paused, and went to the next stanza. I was calm again but as it came to the last part of the poem I could hear the emotion rising. My voice didn't quiver but I knew I was on the edge. I made it to the last line, the last word and VICTORY... and walked back to my desk.

I realize that I just read a simple poem that took me ALL day to write but it is in the facing of my fears that I really grew and learned that I can rely on myself and on the frantic pleadings that God hears in a flurry of, Oh please, oh please, oh please!

Another lesson learned...check....several million left to go!