No matter how many times I show up

To write

To speak

To contribute

There’s a disapproving figure

Somewhere between my ears

Sometimes quietly suggesting

Other times explicitly yelling

That I have no right to be here

No grounds to be sharing an insight

No real reason to share my thoughts.

And it wouldn’t be so potent

If the voice wasn’t so reasonable

If I didn’t at some level agree

If it didn’t feel like safety

To listen.

And so the battle royale

Of creative work

Is not won in one dramatic moment

When my art is celebrated

And my identity as a creative

Is affirmed,

Because the Resistance is relentless.

Every day, it asks me the question

“Will you really show up today?”

“Must you really?”

Followed by an elaborate

Mental playback

Of all my shortcomings.

And so if for no other reason

I will show up again today

And then again tomorrow

Just to fight back.