In my hometown, Center Sandwich NH, after being reclusive and driving in to get my mail, I saw a sign outside the local art barn announcing an “open Mic” night. I have on occasions gone to these invitations, listened to poetry and spoke my own pieces, respecting all that shown. I put the date on my calendar and posted it on my bathroom door.
I showed up with three poems. Asking for the sign in sheet, I introduced myself. I was told this is a musical night for local musicians and you are welcome to read, if you like, what you have written for tonight. The music was nice as I listened and smiled… then, they called my name. Humbly, I read my poems. The audience was gracious. I bowed and quickly left the stand.
I went to the next month’s open Mic and brought my guitar; understanding the freedom, they had given me on my first night, as I played my own songs. Again, breaking protocol allowed on the first night with applause, I was welcomed again with the freedom I brought with my personal art.
Our skin will age
in the seasons of our life
accept the wrinkles.