I have to give a speech this term—
and, frankly, I’m afraid.
It’s not my form of fun,
and now I’m speaking for a grade.
I have to give a speech this term
and share my thoughts aloud.
They say it’s just like writing,
but the difference is a crowd.
I don’t mind attention,
and I know my friends agree,
but when I’m standing on a stage,
I’m not sure that it’s for me.
I know how to express myself,
and writing’s not my fear.
But if my voice is trembling,
can I trust it to be clear?
My hands would start to shake,
although I didn’t have caffeine—
it’s like every nerve is quaking
when I know I can be seen.
My lips go limp and quiver
while my tongue goes numb and dry.
I can see the people smiling,
but I’m barely getting by.
I might think my notes are thorough,
but my vision would be blurred.
I try to raise my voice,
but I’m afraid of being heard.
It’s a funny little paradox—
I’m brave and then I’m not,
and I tell myself the only thing
worth fearing is my thoughts.
I could work on courage,
but my flaws are all I see—
it’s like all my insecurities
just point me back to me.
So if it’s not the speaking,
or the panic, or the dread,
could it just be that I’m wary
of the thoughts inside my head?
Maybe I don’t talk because
I’m scared they won’t applaud,
and maybe I’m a poet
for a validating nod.
Maybe I will learn
how to be calmer when I speak,
and maybe if I’m wrong sometimes,
it doesn’t mean I’m weak.
I have to give a speech this term—
I feel I’ve met my end.
But if I’ve learned from poetry,
it’s that words can be my friend.
I have to give a speech this term,
and even if I pale,
perhaps to do the daunting thing
will mean I can’t have failed.
Cindy Green is a forest-wandering, poetry-scribbling stargazer with messy notebooks and messy thoughts. Despite her love for all of God’s creation, sunflowers and stars in particular have a way of sneaking into both her writing and her heart (but you won’t hear her complaining about it). She is an amateur sword-wielder with a Highland-dancing warrior spirit who also writes letters to the moon and considers the sky her best friend. A focused daydreamer, organized pack rat, and oblivious observer, she is a self-professing ambivert (or a living contradiction) who deeply feels both the beauty and fallen state of the world. Through her words, she hopes to describe the indescribable and form personal connections with people while reflecting a love for her Savior and a passion for everything she touches.
This is great Cindy! I love the way you shape the words into feelings!
I love this! 😍