Table for One - a Poem about Stuttering by me

Table for One - a Poem about Stuttering by me **Table for One** I can be a very good listener. If God willed, I could also be a good Talker. I am not mute. If I were mute, perhaps I could learn sign language, and my problem would be solved. Society has forced me to speak. SO I SPEAK! Society will not listen. Speaking for me is not unlike walking with a broken leg -- Possible yes, but slow, humiliating, and riddled with anxiety. Perhaps the speed is the key! Perhaps if I allowed myself time to breath, time to speak … My thoughts race on, uninhibited. I must catch up. I speak faster And slower. I cannot contain my own mind -- it possesses far more willpower than I ever shall. The curse has stayed with me my whole life. The harder I shake it off, the harder it grips me with its cruel claws. They tell me “Don’t fight it!” “It will be gone soon -- it usually leaves for boys like you.” “People don’t really care.” I cannot help but fight it It is not gone And I have seen Their faces. I know what They think when They ask my name and watch me say “P- ” “Uh - sorry about that, hang on” “P- \-PETER” My face is frozen cold lake where each second seems to last an eternity. I close my eyes, or look down, to avoid Their gaze. So I stay silent. I have so many thoughts and ideas that would be heard by all, if only God willed. I know that by sharing these things -- these precious things kept in my head -- I only doom myself to alienation. In some ways, I prefer the table for one. I can be a very good listener. Listening, however, is like some slow rotting away of my mind. I am an extrovert cursed into the body of an introvert -- knowing always that I had more to say but never said it. \-Peter Benson