Tuesday, March 12, 2013
Artist in Hiding
I think I am doing okay and then I find her words again.
She doesn't know me.
Doesn't know this little corner of my world exists.
But I know her.
I know her because she writes her heart, vulnerable and courageous.
I know her because I find air in her words.
Sentences crafted into a dare for me to be an artist.
Phrases that pierce me.
Unravel all my tied-up loose ends.
And I love her for it.
I love her bold enough to speak truth
that spurs me to live truthfully.
To do the art for which I've been created.
I think I am doing okay and then I find her words.
And I remember I was made for more.
Providence nudges again.
I open my arms a little wider.
Lift my head slightly higher.
For bravado is no substitute for bravery.