I know,
that sometimes my performance faltered.
I reached down or up for notes that would not be seized.
I fumbled at times with pitch, tune, entrances, but
every time
I believed.
I believed I was selling crumbs to birds
who were going to die horrible deaths
without them.
I believed that every person
within the sound of my voice should buy
just a small bag for the ‘ungry young ones.
My voice trembled with my belief, as I gazed out at the faces,
beseeching each and every one to part with a tuppence.
.
You believed.
Stranger, how you clung to my arm,
when me met on the sidewalk, months later,
eager to tell me how you’d heard my voice
in your head weeks afterwards. How beautiful it was.
How it made you wept.
I, who knew every vocal fault,
struggled to believe
that my believing,
had been enough to reach past my inadequacy.
Thank you
for reminding me,
it’s the only thing that connects
in the end.
.
Image (c) Evan Buhler used with permission. “Feed the Birds”. Mary Poppins Shuswap Theatre 2016.
Me, being The Bird Woman November-December 2016.
I met a fan of the show yesterday and struggled once again to come to terms with the fact that our art has its own life and power. It can transcend us to speak poignant messages to receptive ears.
reminding yourself of who you are November 25, 2011
Tags: immersion, postaday2011, reading, reality, Richard Armitage, theatre, writing
When I’ve been involved in musical productions, it’s always been depressing the first day after the show closes to find yourself again. Those with romantic roles tend to find themselves a little in love with their show paramour for awhile. The rest of the cast tends to wander about dazedly wondering what they’re going to do to fill their days now.
I’ve written previously about this feeling when emerging out of a particularly in depth literary immersion. I think this is true when you are a writer, as well. When you are wrapped up tightly in your in your alternate world, it can be a difficult transition to return to the mundane realities.
What power has the imagination to fuel such alternate visions, and to put them all into our heads. We carry our own ‘holodecks’ of possibility. We can create our own world of romance, joy, and comedy. We can create our own horror drama. How important it is to make the best choice, to make our lives the best we can imagine them to be! If reality doesn’t suit, we can imagine a better life.
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