The crow does not know
That he is not beautiful
That he cannot sing
There’s a crow in the tree outside my window. He is preening with pride and cawing with conviction. He has Mick Jagger swagger and audacity in spades. He takes one look at the double negatives tucked within my haiku and says, “You got that right, Sugar.”
He knows he is beautiful.
He takes his rightful place in the choir.
And he does not give a biscuit what people think of his art…
Nor should you.
Often when we attempt a creative act, we run smack into fear. Fear that our art will not be good enough. Fear that we are not good enough. Fear of what others may think.
But here’s the rub. That kind of fear isn't real. He’s a man with no fashion sense on a stick in a field — his grubby straw hands just get in the way of what you are meant to do.
And you are meant to do something wonderful.
I know without a doubt that everyone is here to create some amazing something.
How do I know? Place your hand on your chest. Do you feel that thumping? Some folks will try to tell you that that is your heart driving blood through your veins. Yeah, I know all about their theories. I say it’s something different.
I say what you’re feeling is the amazing something inside of you that wants to be created. That special something with the soul of a crow — beating its wings against a cage made of bone. It knows it is beautiful. It knows it can sing… or write… or paint — you name it, it knows. And it does not give a biscuit what you think other people will think if you set it free.
Set it free!
Okay, now I’ll climb down off my soapbox before I break a tibia.
PROMPT: Do it.