My Poet's Soul

I have not wanted to admit it. Work is kicking my butt. Too often I find myself facing down angry people in small rooms. "Get bigger," I tell myself. "Don't look afraid." But I am afraid. I am trembling inside my clothes. A co-worker told me tonight she was impressed at how professional I sound on the phone. "You sound so sure of yourself," she said. I am not sure of myself. I took a lot of acting in college. I am using it. Inside my head, I stutter, I falter, I pray. I pray The Serenity Prayer prayer a dozen times a day in the rest room on my breaks. I go in there because the phones aren't ringing, and I can recall at least for a moment, my poet's soul.