All is not well.

I’ll say.
I woke up with swelling that felt like a softball at the back of my throat this morning.
I fought my way to the surface of wakefulness
Only to find myself discouraged by the state of my art.
I dreamed I was in a play
For which I’d forgotten to read the 2nd half of the script,
In which I played a character named “Sharon.”
I waded my way through the performance
Script in hand
Lights too dim to read it.
But despite the misery and shame of all the mistakes –
What I remember most was that laugh that the audience rewarded me with
When I reached out to them.
In the midst of what was a standard Actor’s Nightmare.
I left with the peace of having been with an audience –
Having connected.
I woke up, though, and found that I have no rehearsal to go to,
No lines to go over
No performance about to put me before the audience
And I don’t know what process could ever have me there again.
I can’t say they didn’t warn me when I chose this path
Oh so many years ago. They very strenuously did.
But there was no choice then
As there is none now
Even though this path seems to lead in circles
I must keep putting one foot in front of the other
Because this circle is my circle
No matter how unwell it is.

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