May I be the Storyteller of my Life
May I be the storyteller of my life
and not its muted witness.
May I boldly move onward
in each page
without drowning in emptiness.
May my hero be naked of pretense,
and let that be her single defense.
May she falter and fall and hurt and cry
and in that dance find her graceful steps.
And if I must at times write with my tears
may they wash the heart of fear.
And if I must in darkness write,
let my words make sense
all the more bright.
Let me write of my errors and blunders
until they turn into maps
that show the way
or into lamps perhaps
that brighten up the stay.
Let my foretold “stunning dread”
be a tale of “understanding”
that clears the path ahead.
And as the tale spins,
allow me to keep
the inner enemy at bay
that my own struggle
not stifles the wings
of she who trails the yarn
yearning to fly.
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