Creative Writing

The Stage

By Jolie V. Gutierrez 


Heat from a stage light dances before me. 

It twirls around my hair and plays with my skin.

Time is not my friend.

They left me when I needed them the most.

I don’t recognize me and neither to the

empty seats.

The day has come, and I feel sweat trying to find shelter in my hands.

They are as nervous as I am. 

Chaos is behind the scenes, yet I feel like slow motion.

I feel mic tape on my skin. Trying to control my breathing. It pinches my skin, telling me to calm down.

I can only see the first row, empty. Light wants to be center of attention. 

I open my mouth and I am center stage. 

I still can’t see but I know someone starts watching. 

When I’m done, applause appears in audience, loud and present. 

The seats begin to fill with different parts of me. 

Pride stands straight, head help up. 

Gratitude, bowing and holding their hand to their heart.

Voice is surprised, still, bold. 

Standing ovation.

I don’t recognize me, but now,

The seats do. 


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.