Wanting Forgiveness

Today, at a dance lesson, I was reminded, again, of how complicated, spinning, unfinished, not-close-to-right I am.

How the skin of me in no way reflects all the surge within.

How most of the time, most of the days, I am housewife, mother, the owner of a firm, the nightly chef and the laundromat, the woman with the broom, but how, when I sneak the other me's into the day (the dance, the joy, the jilt of joy, the writer's heart and mind) I am someone else again.

How perhaps this wears on some.

I cri