Written as if I were inside the piece, this response attempts to personalize feelings of
concealment, the buried side of ourselves that yearns to be unearthed. Thank you Tere
for candidly discussing your work and for making this topic accessible.
My closeted self, hidden
sacrificed for the sake of normalcy.
All I have known, yet it remains unexposed
bubbling, surfacing, only to be pushed down again
further distancing myself from...
I close my eyes dreaming, longing for the unveiling of loneliness
yet I suffer alone.
Slap me now.
Wait, hold, claw
rip me open, save me.
Canʼt you see Iʼm just like you?
We are all one.
The same brittle souls of disguised suffering
hoping for a savior of truth.
Someone, something untainted, pure.
Itʼs you who can save me, pull me from the slippery mess of lies
I need you, you resist and I will follow
unrelenting, in pursuit of Self.
Exhausted I collapse
caught without a mask, knowing Iʼm seen.
Finally, I am visible.
Blinded by the light, the stark florescent color of nakedness
Is this me?
Molly, an Idaho native, now calls the Hudson River Valley home. Her interest in dance making, pedagogy, kinesiology and performance art brings her into Manhattan weekly. Molly holds a B.F.A. in Modern Dance from the University of Utah and is currently adjunct faculty at SUNY New Paltz.