Holding Space

Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you

my inner cur.  See how I slink

along the outskirts of parties,

hoping you won’t notice how little

I bring.  You’ve probably kicked me

in irritation, or just to force me out 

of your valuable, important way.  

I’ve never really claimed

the spotlight, but yesterday two powerful 

friends, daring to speak truth

illuminated me in my shivering,

cowering, pee-stained crouch

in the corner: submissive, longing

for attention even though I know

I’m doing this all wrong.

I’ll never get it right.

And now that you see me,

I blink, struggling to maintain

my lowly stance.  I’ve not

been celebrated before.  If you knew

my lineage, my true 

and worthless self, you would

run away, I’m sure of it.

I know that I have always 

shunned me.  Even so, today

I hold myself out

(empowered by a tribe)

for your inspection.  Among the gasps

of disgust, I hear

a comment about how mongrels

can be the most loving,

and so unique!  I straighten

my spine just a bit,

feeling into this being,

accepting the invitation

to unveil at last

the good-for-nothing

wretched me locked away 

in the cold  — although I’m sure

that I’m not doing this right.

Inspired by The Daily Word Prompt: cur

Published by

Victoria Stuart

I'm a poet, philosopher and inner seeker. A giver, lover and a healer who studies the heart.

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