First Spoken Word Performance!

Performing one of my spoken word poems, “Enough”, for the first time at Poetic Underground in KC, MO!

Transcript:

“Uh, this is my first time here.”

*cheers and applause*

“And normally, I would never do something like this. I was the kid who had, like, terrible stage fright growing up.

And usually my voice gives me a lot of dysphoria, but here I am.”

*more cheers and applause*

Two people on the side: “We’re so happy you’re here!”

Me: “What?”

They repeat what they said.

Me: “Oh, thank you.”

“This is called ‘Enough’ and is by me and another poet who goes by the name Audra Hibbs.

‘Why are you so needy?’

You grunted in frustration,

Your tone and volume approaching

Dangerous levels.

Your energy was swirling around you,

Dark and chaotic,

Your brow clouded with

An impending storm

About to wreak

Havoc on me.

I’m merely a weak sapling,

Whipped around by the

Relentless rain and violent winds,

My thin branches stripped bare.

I didn’t have a good answer;

None would satisfy you.

Shame and panic stiffened me,

And my mind was a blank slate;

Tabla rasa.

My answer finally emerged,

Pulled and pried out of me

By your increasing insistence

And crescendoing rage.

What an inharmonious, deafening symphony.

I turned my face down to my lap

To blink away my shameful tears

And forced myself to unfreeze.

My voice was trembling

As much as my frame.

‘I’m just trying to be honest,’ I whispered.

This earned me a fresh lecture,

A tirade of what I’ve done wrong

And why I am wrong.

Why I’m a liar,

A narcissist,

Too sensitive.

You were always hellbent

On teaching me the error of

My ways and the

Corruption of my character.

Why am I not enough for him?

This thought stood out clearly

As my mind melted away from

My physical form.

Your mouth carried on moving,

And loud, angry words and sounds

Continued spewing out

As you rummaged through my

Value and usefulness ruthlessly,

Picking and discarding bits of me

As you saw fit.

But I’m unseeing and unhearing now,

Defeated. Ruminating.

I’m not enough.

If I was, I wouldn’t be in trouble.

I wouldn’t be such a burden.

I’m not enough.

In fact, I’m too much.

I’d experienced rejection

Too often and too young;

Constantly misunderstood,

Misjudged, and mistreated.

I now found myself here:

A hollow shell,

You a hammer delivering blows

Intended to break me open

So I could pour out my secrets

And self-worth.

At some point along the way,

I internalized the idea

That all holy things are hard.

Everything sacred must be

Paid for with suffering.

Nothing is more virtuous than

Grinding one’s fingers to the bone

Until death comes.

I learned to resist ease,

To be skeptical of joy,

To disdain happiness,

To fear pleasure,

And to avoid rest.

In my pursuit of love,

This translated to:

All holy relationships are hard.

Every sacred love must be paid for

With suffering.

Any worthy, virtuous love required

Grinding my fingers to the bone

Until death comes.

Death could come in the form

Of my heart ceasing to beat,

The air stilling in my lungs.

Or death could come swiftly

With manic, cruel words

That land a fatal blow.

Death could come at the hand

Of the one I love the most

Forcing me into their narrow, rigid box

And in their narrow, rigid ideas

Of what is acceptable about me

And what is an acceptable way

For me to love.

In love, I learned to resist ease,

To disdain happiness,

To fear pleasure,

And to avoid rest.

I used to drag myself through hell

For people, particularly for

The chance at

Once-in-a-lifetime,

Soulmate,

Monogamous,

Romantic love.

I now know that I can never

Allow myself to be similarly

Burned and betrayed again.

I can and will be by the side

Of my loved ones

As they traverse the mountains,

And valleys,

And hellfire of life.

But I will never again cast myself

Into the lake of fire

To earn their love

And affection again.

I reject elevating pain to a pedestal.

I do not choose to postpone joy.

I do not choose to believe that

I am most valuable when

I am most exhausted,

That I am most lovable when

I am most depleted,

That I am most holy when

I am least happy.

I will not make a god of difficulty.

I will experience pain when it comes,

But I will not invite it into my bed to stay.

I choose to lean all the way into

Delight, on behalf of myself and

On behalf of all whom I love;

I will sit down at the table of joy

And eat without apology.

So as I sit there and take your

Verbal attacks and endure

Your emotional brutality,

I take back the power.

You aren’t the sole author

Of this narrative.

I swallow my fear

And bite into my first

Taste of freedom and

Resolve to take up space—

All the space that I have

Always occupied and deserve to.

I am sacred because I exist.

I already approve of me,

And you will not have me.

I will have my joy now.”

*cheers and applause*