Photo credit: Daniel Lee Mingook/Unsplash
Where do Creatives go?
Worship and belonging seems foreign.
Foreign because my language is
Not your language and so...
IF I draw while you speak
Because your words have nudged me.
We are on the same wave but
The frequency is weak.
Music and praise and waving of hands
Look like clouds and dance in the Creative’s mind.
I see the glances and snickers wondering if I’m sane.
You usher me out, but I want to stand.
Where do the Creatives go?
Longing to belong but finding no place
Perceived as a threat, a nuisance.
My tears and my silenced tongue say,
Not so...
Where do the Creatives go?
To worship, to praise, sing and
Paint, to dance...
Where? I don’t know.
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