If You Had One Talent More [a poem]

in the interview, she said:

If you could buy any one talent what would it be?

She asked guilelessly, unknowingly.

Did she know she was asking me:

What is your prison? What deprives you of freedom? To what fear do you fall prey?

Please, oh please would you take away the endless, maddening worry over words.
The words I love as I endlessly twist and turn

them.  Allowing the words to loll about on my tongue.

I cannot get them out loud.  Not well enough.

And it makes me boil with fury. Powerless because in my brain it is all

so clear. On paper every word concise and even brilliant, a time or two.

But out loud I am a clown.

If I could buy any talent in the world I ask

would you give me the ability to actually say what I think?
The persuasive magic of breaking down walls of misunderstanding?
Of bringing people together toward an idea, a prayer, a prophetic word, an affirmation that needs saying.

Oh the words, the intent, the message in my heart I just want it out.  Out of my head.

In the interview, I spoke of comfort speaking publicly, but it is so much more.




to the

w o r d s


Please, oh please
take away the endless, maddening worry over w o r d s turning

me into a clown.