Born to Perform

I was born to perform

An audience completes me, yet

All these years I felt ashamed of that need.

In order to know myself,

In order to recognize you,

I must express and observe your response.

Without your feedback I live in a vacuum,

A cave where I lose myself and lose sight of you.

I marveled at people who could unabashedly admit

They felt most authentic “on stage.”  

I could not say that out loud.

I set it aside, put performing behind me,

Fifty years ago.

I moved to a small town

Where no one knows me and found

A small community theater.

What the hell?

Each night I show up for rehearsal where

I am becoming a clown.

One of the young children in the cast

Approached me and asked, “are you a clown?”

“Yes,” I replied, and she asked

“With gray hair?”

The oldest member of the cast by at least 30 years

I am showing up, 

Remembering how to be a clown,

Bowing to the cliche “it is never too late,”

I memorize my few lines,

Finding myself, and hopefully, rediscovering you.