Day 26 -- Poetry Reading

I went to a poetry reading tonight at the Pearson Lakes Art Center.  Anyone who has a love for writing, reading, or listening to poetry can attend.  We had a group of nine tonight........yea, obviously poetry still hasn't gained much in "pop"ularity.  I read my poem, The Hike that I posted here a few days ago, and I also read The Tulip that I wrote this past summer, which I'll include at the end of this post.  I then worked up the courage to read Breaking Point, which I also posted in this blog about 10 days ago.  I was doing okay reading it until I got to the very last line, "Away from the breaking point," and I broke.  It wasn't a complete breakdown, but enough to spark compassion in my audience, which then led to more tears.  Guess I'm not ready to hit the road as a motivational speaker.  This is why I'm trying harder to poke fun at cancer rather than empower it by being serious.  My tears were not for naught.  The poem did inspire one woman to ask if she could bring it home to her husband who has MS.  My definition of an activist is anyone who makes a difference, one person at a time.
My throat and ears have been hurting, and my left armpit lymph node is rearing its ugly head again.  Not feeling well certainly makes a person more vulnerable.  Is it wrong to wish for something simple like a cold?

Here's the other poem I read tonight:

The Tulip

Why does she keep cutting me down? 
Every time I push my way through all the crap, she’s right there to mow me over. 
That’s it. 
I’ve had enough. 
I’m not going to do it anymore.
I don’t need this shit.
I was just trying to liven-up the landscape with some color, to be that splash of yellow in a sea of green.  I don’t think she understands what I go through.
Waiting and waiting.
For months and months, I wait until all the elements are in place for me to make an appearance.
I don’t push through with a huge fanfare and a loud “Ta-dah!” 
I just inch my way up and out.
Then as soon as I start budding, she’s there, racing and roaring, sucking me up and spitting me out.
I just can’t do it anymore.
It’s too hard.
I don’t think I have it in me to keep trying.
I’ll retreat within, like always.
I have no choice.
I’ll wait, and I’ll hope, and I’ll plan that next time it will be different. 
Next time she’ll let me be. 
Next time she’ll let me do what I was destined.