I serendipitously came upon this poem I wrote some years ago and it felt related to yesterday’s post about exceeding my grasp. And so here it is:
No bull in a china shop ever caused more damage than I did in my 6thgrade piano recital
as I ran full-speed through Beethoven’s 16thnotes,
knocking them down,
tumbling them helter-skelter into
a jumble of incoherence.
In the back seat of the car, my attempts to sing and drum along with my friends to Led Zeppelin
missed so many boats
that the Coast Guard was called out.
My high school English papers were returned to me bleeding with the teacher’s red marks
I stuffed them in my hospital drawer,
where they failed to convalesce.
Early in my teaching career, a class of 4-year-olds once bolted out the door and ran
down the hall like it was the day after Thanksgiving at Walmart.
With me chasing them.
Past the principal’s desk.
Despite these warnings from World, I now step boldly forth and claim
myself as musician, author, teacher, praise
of the phoenix rising
from the ashes of my old failures.