The Cookie Jar

I was caught with the jar lid in one hand, and a cookie in the other hand.

The sudden click of the kitchen lights turning on,

crumbs scattered across the bottom half of my face,

and I could not say I regretted it one bit.

The act of being caught red handed, was the act of satisfying my purpose.

Not to say that I was born to steal cookies from cookie jars,

but in the context of my shifting place in the world,

I will catch myself at the oddest moments.

The kitchen lights on me, the spotlight on me.

The jar lid in one hand, a microphone in one hand.

A cookie in the other hand, that same hand clenched into a tight fist behind my back,

red and sweating.

CAUGHT - In the act.

I could not pull the cookies out of the jar because that jar is still in the kitchen -

half empty, courtesy of moi.

Half full, moi stands on stage.

I have caught sight of the protruding eyes glaring up at me,

but why am I the one who’s intimidated?

(Anxiety is one heck of a rival!)

With trembling fingers I raise the microphone to my mouth,

the bits of cookie crumbs are now forming words -

bouncing from my lips and out to the corners of the room.

They travel rhythmically through him and her and them before finally

echoing back to me, telling me they have caught sight

of the me that I won’t let myself see.

I brush them away and the words continue to echo.

Those words held Melody, but I was not singing, only speaking.

Melody was caught in the ears of these people

who played her over again and again

until the electricity generated through their bodies -

pushing them upright and into a roar of applause… for me.

They caught Melody.

Traveling along through the wavelengths of their “hoorahs” and “bravos,”

as if crowd surfing before being pushed up onto the stage.

They returned Melody to me.

They caught Melody who was lost in the tight fist behind my back, red and sweating. Melody, lost in the farthest jar, from the farthest light.

But here, now, she stands.

I stand.

The power behind the words, conquering this doesn’t seem so absurd.

The stars will cry to shine brighter than the city lights.

When they become so perfectly aligned they will shine

but not brighter than the light of the reunion on that night.

My reunion with Melody - myself.

Who slipped away from me in the dawn of the spotlight,

but comes back to remind me once more

that overcoming fear is only one ingredient in the mix.

I will gladly walk on stage to speak in front of you.

Even with a face covered in cookie crumbs,

so long as it means that I am caught

doing what has helped me to discover myself.

I was born to speak, and speak I will.

No longer letting go of myself in the process,

but grasping and holding on.

I cannot say I regret it one bit.

Now for the rest of those cookies…