A storm of courage will whirl around me,
Its hailstones will hit and wash my fear off,
Self doubt and pity will drip from my chest –
Like termite walls off a drenched log.
On that day,
I will hand you these words of wanton want –
Torn and worn around the edges,
From repetitive shuffling between tongue and throat –
And then, with confidence singing through my pores,
You will hear nothing in them but radiant beauty.