I’ve lost my job…
As if somehow
I’ve misplaced a part of my life
I now have to find
Just around the next corner.
So I become still, quiet
Trying to remember
About what I’ve done
For so many years
I could do it with my eyes closed.
What am I afraid of?
Feelings, I guess…
Here I am ten or eleven years old
Again, and yet another grown-up
Telling me that I’m not worthy enough
Or talented enough
Or courageous enough.
I’ll show them, those that doubt.
The ones that don’t understand
The incredible painting that is me!
This time I’ll paint a picture on paper.
I’ll use a typewriter instead of crayons
A computer instead of paints.
But in my heart I’ll know
That I’m a rainbow after a storm
A bright shinning star
On a crisp winter night.
And I’ll begin again
To share with strangers
The wondrous story that is me.
All rights reserved. ©2009 by Sara Fryd
*This poem is hanging in the unemployment office in Albuquerque, NM.