The Distance of the Stage

The auditorium is thick with the heat

of five hundred parents holding their breath.

I’m tucked in the back in a folding seat

watching the girl who was scared to death

walk up to the stage with a steady stride

and shake the principal’s hand like a peer.

There isn't a crack in her polished pride,

no room for the ghost of a childhood fear.

Her graduation gown is creased and bright,

a sharp blue blade that cuts us in two.

She’s stepping away into her own light

and I’m terrified of what I’m supposed to do.