On an April night much like this night, a young wife wrote about the prison she was living in just because she was fearful to speak up, to respect herself and to let the world know that she truly had something to offer the world.
That person was me. I am no longer a wife, but I still have to deal with my shyness everyday.
One thing I've learned in the decades since I first wrote this, was to be who I am. And if that is a shy person, admit it and welcome it as a part of me.
I live in an invisible shell
Too thick to crack it seems.
I see out of it so very well
But can others see the real me?
I hammer my fists in this prison
Hoping soon a crack will appear.
I pray to God that for some reason
My constant plea she will hear.
To be a giggling bubbling sort
Full of love and in awe of life.
A breathing soul proud to be alive,
To be a real woman, mother and wife.
So hammer on this shell with me.
Perhaps together we will make a dent.
A child wants to grow, not just be.
But to become the person God sent.