To The Person Of Large Heart Reading The Small Poem

[to you at the open mic, proceeding]

you had to work yourself up to get here
standing before strangers;
your heart in your hands.

barely able to control the shaking.
at home you were so sure the
poem you wrote would endure

and you dreamed so joyously, if I read it
surely people will know finally
what shines in me

and maybe they will love me for it.
maybe they will.
I know they will

but now before the faces
you've never seen before in your life
and in the vastness

you wish you hadn't come.
still you go on
and your voice is shaking

and you know there's nothing
you can do about it now;
you, with your small poem

before the impassive crowd.

oh why you think did I ever come
to read my poem out loud.
but oh I wish and oh I think

you should take heart
you with sorrow trembling on the brink
and ready to fall

and critics should just stand apart
from judging you because
aren't we all just children

in the dark, stuttering-
waiting for the Angel to come?

mary angela douglas 26 november 2015