“It’s not my job to be the world’s critic.” Jane McGonical
So many years ago I left the high of winning the Turkey Trot
At five o’clock
To the lows of learning college level French at ODU
“You must study your vocabulary,” said Professor Wigemot
“Oui,” was all I knew to say.
English, though, I can bust out an opinion
In a second
Where the highs of having survived college’s peak
Leave no time
For the inner voice to be quiet
As it has too much to say.
Often the conversation begins as an idea,
Something fabulous to capture on paper.
Quickly it can digress into excuses or insecurities
Before wasting into some unfortunate judgment
That is unfair to everyone
Unlucky enough to fall under its influence.
I fight with that voice
Sometimes able to quell it with distraction
But it has rooted its tendrils deep inside my brain
Proving it controls the switch, has the power
To revive negativity and insecurity
Whenever its fancy becomes the next mood.
Enough. The damage of this wiring,
This thinking has eroded a great deal of opportunity
To be at ease on the inside,
Just as I project to the outside.
Enough, inner child,
As Carlos said, “You will respect and honor me.”
Only, I have no patience for waiting on change.
Too bad, huh? Putting this lifelong voice to rest
Requires time for it will only get better
When the time is right.
For now, this is my judgment,
I’m ready for something different.