The stories we tell,
So many superficial details,
Few stretching to share how deeply we feel,
Who we are.
I marveled at a reading today,
How the author could share a story so personal,
One with a picture painting him as uncaring,
Perhaps even an ass.
It’s so hard to know the stories from others,
Even harder to understand our own.
I was moved by the reader’s honesty, his ownership.
I’m not there yet.