88-89/365 Backstage at the Biblioteca

Dressing Room meanderings

March 29, 2025

Final Exposure – A Pantoum
Written backstage at the Biblioteca, San Miguel de Allende. March 13, 2025

Backstage at the Biblioteca
My mother, my story
No ugly to hide
Forgiveness as medicine—quiet, palliative, and ours to offer

My mother, my story
Razor-edged truth smoothes and softens
Forgiveness as medicine—quiet, palliative, and ours to offer
Love spread like lotion

Razor-edged truth smoothes and softens
No ugly to hide
Love spread like lotion
Backstage at the Biblioteca

On March 13th in San Miguel de Allende, MX, I performed a short memoir piece as part of a collective presentation from a Page to Stage class offered by Eli Hans and Joseph Bennett.

Before the performance, a few of us met for coffee at the restaurant next to the theatre. To ground my nerves, I pulled out my sketchbook and drew three statues nestled in the plants by our table.

Later, in the dressing room, I added water to the ink drawings—bringing them to life in a new way. They became instantly added to the cast of characters from my story. The pantoum poured onto the page in response.

This morning in my journal, I found myself circling the question of whether to share the video of my performance publicly. There’s something tender about placing a piece of personal history out in the open—especially one shaped by so many years of silence, complexity, and longing.

As I wrote, another pantoum came through.

Pantoum #89

I want to share my story
A seed that was planted in a tangled garden
No more avoiding the pull of letting go
The ending of a mother-daughter tug of war

A seed that was planted in a tangled garden
A harvest of love and forgiveness
The ending of a mother-daughter tug of war
Where love spread like lotion

A harvest of love and forgiveness
No more avoiding the pull of letting go
Where love spread like lotion
I want to share my story

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INVITATION:

Sometimes, story arrives in fragments—drawn lines, remembered phrases, repeated rhythms.

• Sketch what’s in front of you.

• Write what’s underneath.

• Let the lines of a memory—or a statue, or a feeling—become a poem, a whisper, a truth.

Let the page be the stage. Just a pen, a breath, and a little bit of space.

What wants to come through you today?

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See you next time for #90, here in the Pantoumery.

PS. If you’re interested in seeing my performance “Final Exposure”, it’s here:

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What’s a pantoum, you say? I’m writing one each day, for a year. Learn how HERE