Sunday, February 27, 2011

Risky Business and Me Too

Last night I attended something called Gallery Night hosted by my church. I'm still at the early stages of getting involved and connected there, and attending events outside of Sunday morning is a big deal. I always get these emails about groups that are meeting and things that are happening, and I think, "Oh, that sounds so cool!" and then I chicken out and don't go. Am I the only one who does this?

Anyway, in the emails about Gallery Night, they asked for submissions from the community. They wanted submissions "from ordinary people at Exodus doing art, music, writing and anything else creative." And in a highly uncharacteristic move (seriously, I never do this), I emailed the organizer and told her I had some poems I wanted to contribute.

I love to read poetry. And yes, I occasionally write it myself. But aside from a creative writing class in high school where we were required to share our classwork, I have never let anyone else read my poems. Heck, I've never even told anyone I write poetry! Even typing the phrase "I write poetry" is ridiculous!!!!!!!

Hours could be spent psychoanalyzing my insecurities about writing. Who knows what possessed me to voluntarily contribute my poems for the Gallery Night. And then follow through by actually bringing them to the Gallery Night. And then stand around talking to people at the Gallery Night who might actually match up the name on the paper with my face! But I did. And the absolute best thing that could have happened in that whole scenario actually happened.

I met a new person in the mingling, and when I introduced myself, she asked me if I had submitted anything, because there were a few different Wendys who had brought pieces. I said yes, and identified the poems I brought. "Oh, that winter one..." she said.
"Yeah, when I showed it to my roommate she thought it was really sad."
"It was," she said, "but I definitely know the feeling."

The most comforting words a person can ever say are "Me too."

And, just for posterity, here's that poem:

I am glad
you broke my heart in winter.
I don't think I could bear
to see things growing
to hear birds chirping
to watch children playing in the sun.

Winter is cold

like my heart.


Emily said...

I love your current "Reading List" - some great books! :) :) Thanks for checking my blog out and posting a comment. It's delightful to "meet" you virtually!

J. M. Richards said...


You have been holding out on me!! First of all, I somehow missed that you started blogging again. And secondly, what an amazing poem!! Seriously!
Why did you not share that sooner??

I guess I somehow knew, or perhaps suspected, that you wrote your own poetry, but I'm not sure how much of it I ever read, even on your poetry blog. You ought to post it more often. Sincerely,
Your long-lost friend Jessica <3