humble pie a la mode

ripplespeak
Fake humility is a lovely stranglehold.
She’ll pull you onto the dance floor,
whispering “you only want attention”
and smile sweetly as she squeezes,
straightjackets,
silences,
shames.
Humility,
the real thing,
 grins and grooves
to unforced rhythms,
just giddy with the thrill
of pouring out her heart
like a box full of crayons
She is happy,
knows it,
and claps her hands
~a dancing, barefoot spirit.
Fake humility rolls
her perfectly practiced eyes
and carefully measures out accusation
“Who says you’re qualified?”
“Who says you’re doing it right?”
“Who says you’re (insert truth and twist) enough?”
I wonder how much beauty goes unsung
unshared
unborn
because of her polite,
vicious
lies.
I want real humility
…to dip and twirl and
 sink and swoop and
 leap and laugh and
 love out loud
with pure raw joy
pulsing through every creative atom
in my being,
to hurl my heart into the universe
and watch in wonder
as the colors splash and spatter.
Fake humility tightens her lips and stabs
“who in the hell to you think you are?”
Real humility drapes a protective arm
 around my shoulder
and raises my chin,
nudging me to see the affirming twinkle
in the eyes of Love
and I dash back
to the unfinished business
of being
simply
me.
bright one
http://www.etsy.com/shop/ripplespeak