May's Song: Victory

Goal: write a song a month, with the resolve to not self-edit or worry if it’s crap. I'm feeling old-school spoken word country and western. I wrote a song called Victory when I was eight years old but the lyrics are long gone, the orange spiral-bound notebook tossed one day when my dad was hauling trash to the dump. I still regret that.  

What do you consider brave,

When you're only eight?

What demons are you taking down,

When you dare to be great?

Now I wrote this song, partially, when I was eight years old. Here's the strange thing you learn about fear at that age...

I was a wall climber, 

With scratches on my knees. 

Daring the boys to play games, 

and swinging out of trees. 

One of my teachers saw me squinting, 

and thought maybe I couldn't see. 

I got my first pair of glasses. 

And then I saw the grass, 

all the way below me. 

I got scared. 

And that grounded me. 

Believe it or not, I was shy. Speaking in class, in front of an audience. So what did that nun running my school make me do?

Here’s the Good Book,

Follow the priest's cue.

You will do today’s reading - one... or maybe two. 

So for years at the church, I was a reader, working on my speaking voice, the syllables sliding smoothly into a microphone while my knees quivered.

Now in any schoolyard, you have your bullies. Some use their fist, and others use your mind. Angela did both. She liked to gang up on one girl, one at a time. We all had our turn. This one time, it was because this girl got the best grade on a test.  I just… I told her no.

So it was my turn. And I stood up for myself, all by myself. So it was time for another method.

The challenge was thrown,

A fight, she snarked.

Meet me at three,

The corner, by the park.

I remember the fear, the dread, and my blue wool socks that I kept having to pull up. I wasn’t a fighter and yet, I showed up.

She didn't. 

Said her mom made her do the dishes. Or she forgot. 

These are the little victories, when you are small.

Those moments in life you need to grow tall. 

Do they need to be bold? No, not at all.

The time you’re scared and your back’s against the wall.

In the face of fear, here is your fate,

It’s your chance to be you, your time to be great.