Last night I attended the weekly open mic night at the Blue Angel Poet's Dive. I first read about the event over on Chestnut Rau's blog. I think this event is going to become a Sunday evening ritual for me.
I haven’t been to a poetry reading in years, so attending last night’s event in SL brought back a lot of memories for me. The poetry that was shared was beautiful, intense and powerful, and I loved every minute of it. I’m already looking forward to attending next Sunday.
While I was sitting and listening, I was reminded of a time in my life when I used to attend literary events and I even used to read my poetry aloud. That seems like such a long time ago. Was that even me? As I sat and stared at my computer screen, I felt a deeply buried but oh so familiar desire stirring within me to get up to that mic and bare my soul through my words.
I haven’t written any new poems in years, and I don’t even know if I have it in me anymore. I felt like such an amateur sitting next to all those poets and real writers.
After I logged out, I dug out some of my old notebooks. It was kind of surreal to read through my old stuff written in my girlish handwriting. Things I wrote about so long ago…but the emotion that came off the page as I read each poem felt just as raw as ever.
I feel like those words are begging to be read aloud, they deserve to be heard.
As much as I want to get up there and share my poetry, the thought of doing so makes my heart race. I’m feeling some old feelings of not being good enough. But, I think my desire to read my words aloud is greater than all those not good enough feelings…I’m sure of that.
If I was able to get past those feelings of inadequacy once before to read my poems to a crowd, I should be able to do it again in SL, shouldn’t I?
Weird. Just when you think you've conquered some of your demons, they creep up on you seemingly out of nowhere.