Written 11 March 2021

The Wizard of Oz

is so often what I see

when it comes to my writing

in comparison with me

Hidden safely in the sanctity

of my emerald room

I feverishly pen

my feelings that consume

This is what I think!

This is what I know!

But when it comes to real life

where does my bravery go?

If I see something wrong

that upsets me to the core

if children’s feelings are hurt

if they are left a bit raw

The rage inside me

is so hard to contain

But where is my courage

to point out the child’s pain?

I simply freeze up

my words are gone

It pisses me off

Why do I get this so wrong?

“Stop being such a bloody coward!

You’re a grown adult

If you never take action

you’ll never see a result!”

I’m so desperate to be the change

I’m longing to see

But you can’t be change

if you live behind a screen

I realize that this anxiety

has been with me since a child

always secretly anxious

never wanting to be reviled

Never really feeling

I was entitled to my own voice

Decide my own feelings

make my own choice

*********

So, I’m back at home now

it’s the end of the day

I took back some power

said (a little) of what I needed to say

I may not (yet) be at the stage

where my words flow out

Where I can confidently stand up

and my own opinion tout

But when I get triggered

I reflect

I become slowly more aware

The next time it happens

I’m a wee bit more prepared

It’s like I need the space

to simply rehearse in my head

But sometimes I actually

do get the words said

So I’m not the cowardly wizard

ALL of the time

I find myself getting braver

each time I write a rhyme

I stand a little taller

I can almost feel my muscles flex

As I create the space

to quietly reflect

Present in the moment

in the here and now

But I’m writing this

as my solemn vow