There’s a difference between having stage presence and needing the stage to feel present. True power on stage doesn’t come from puffed chests or practiced swagger—it comes from purpose. From humility wrapped in heat. From knowing that you were called to this moment, not to shine alone, but to light the way.
That’s what I call Stage Might—not might as in muscle, but might as in maybe. As in “maybe this moment could change someone’s life.” As in “maybe I’m here to remind them of their power, not flaunt mine.” It’s the kind of presence that owns the room without needing to dominate it. The kind of leadership that doesn’t shout, “Look at me,” but whispers, “Let me see you.”
We’ve all seen speakers try to own the room with ego. But ego is a fragile thing—it cracks under pressure, it needs applause to survive. Stage Might is stronger. It stands rooted in intention. It leads with authenticity. It connects with compassion and commands without controlling.
When I walk onstage, I don’t walk in to prove myself—I walk in to give myself. My story. My rhythm. My voice. That’s the Poetic Voice approach. You take the space without taking over the space. You rise without needing others to shrink. You share your power by making others feel theirs.
Owning the room isn’t about being the loudest. It’s about being the clearest. The most connected. The most real. And when you speak from that place—when you’re anchored in service, not self—you don’t just get attention. You get alignment. The audience doesn’t just listen. They lean in. Because they can feel that this moment isn’t about your elevation—it’s about theirs.
So the next time you step up, check the ego at the door. Don’t try to impress—try to impact. Don’t aim to dominate—aim to dignify. Because when you lead with Stage Might, your message doesn’t just echo in the room.
It becomes the heartbeat of it.
