I'm NOT a Poet, but.....

I am not a poet but I sure do admire the ability to use less words yet still communicate so much. Me? I need more words. That's just how it is. However, I do believe in pushing myself to try new things and discovering my growth edges in the process. I often choose familiar and safe because growing is hard. I might embarrass myself. Someone might laugh at me. I might fail. In the end I want to choose growth as much as I can and move past my self imposed limits about what I can do. I want to live fully and try new things and know that I said YES to new and uncomfortable things both big and small. I want to be at the end of my life knowing that I tasted as much of this life as I possibly could. So here is just a teeny, tiny way that I pushed myself to try writing a poem. Several years ago I took part in a creativity project to help us daily to create something and challenge our own ideas of what we are capable of. Of course when I saw that one of the days was writing a poem I wanted to skip that part. 
Why? 
Because. 
I am not a poet. 
I can't do it. 
I don't know how. 
I will look stupid. 
People will laugh. 
Blah. Blah. Blah. 
I think I have reached a place of just being bored with my fear and with my own excuses for not being all that I can be. I am more fearful now of reaching the end of my life not having done all that I wanted to do. That's what will look really stupid.
Do you feel like that too? 
Over the weekend I found the poem I had written in the creativity project. I wrote it about my grandmother who has been gone 30 years and who I loved so very much. Instead of thinking...'this is stupid' or 'I'm not a poet'....I just thought what a very honest and sweet tribute to my grandmother. I hope you feel inspired to push past your safety zone today too. You really have nothing to lose. We all have a one way ticket on this earth and a day that will be our last day. Let's not waste these precious days that we do have. I don't believe in being fearless. I believe in being scared to fucking death and doing it anyway. Take one tiny step towards that thing you think you can't do. 

It's one thing for me to write a poem, it's another thing completely to share it with all of you. Here I go....

Daisy

We ate fried cakes in the kitchen

She put extra cinnamon on mine

We shucked peas on the front porch

Her in her house dress and apron

Me still in my nightie

She swept the floor

Hung clothes on the pulley line

And played hymns on the piano

We knelt to pray each night

The smell of peonies wafting thru the window

Popcorn parties on TV trays

Watching Trapper John MD

Her name was Wanda

Some called her Daisy

We played canasta games that lasted three days

We ate fried chicken and radishes

When she lay dying

She wanted root beer

And I brought it to her