today i read my poetry aloud for the first time.

as the moment got closer my palms started to sweat. my heart got louder and more persistent. my chest filled with that familiar feeling, not butterflies but cicadas.

i stood there and i said my name and i forget the rest. the applause wasn’t long enough, my voice wasn’t strong enough, my hands were not

expressive

enough and then all that fell away.

something pulled at the corners of my small mouth and i found, as the room filled with the magic of the artists that came next

i found

that i had healed.