When the ego is wounded, what path does it take
Through the darkness it makes as if it were on stage?
And what manner of audience cares to behold
The beleaguered performance as it must unfold?
Being oneself is futile when fraught with outrage
For attempting to heal, then come fully awake.
Answers dare to elude me. In fear I withdraw
To a safe inhibition. Behavior is checked
While on point in the green room, at ease with the cast.
As I set foot on stage, all the world is aghast.
Can I face my own issues and give due respect
To the art in the drama with heart in the raw?
Might I then become wiser in grace as I dance
From left stage of the darkness toward heaven’s spotlight?
Can I know it’s a brief act and give it my best?
What if I knew the answer? I’d tell all the rest
Of the actors around me that I’ll be alright.
I would steal the performance if given the chance.