Front

Independent. Immune.

She is fearless.

She is strong.

All those around her

“know” it.

And they all think they see it.

But.

Look. Look deep inside.

Past the walls—past the pride.

And see the girl.

She is afraid. Trembling.

She has fallen, and

It’s dark.

So dark that even her own eyes

betray her, and

She can’t even see herself anymore.

She searches for light

for anything to remind her that she’s

still real. 

She lights a candle.

And another.

And another.

They are dim,

but warm.

And warm means that

She’s still living.

So many candles are lit, though,

that as she lights each one,

another runs out of wax.

No time for tears.

----- 

Turn around.

Flip the switch,

That’s been there all along.

There is a light that

never flickers.

Never dims.

Just say a prayer,

He’ll meet you there.

Wherever “there” may be.

She makes a decision.

An empty space at a table.

As the room floods

with white,

she rises to its heat.

It fills her body and

she remembers

who she is.

A daughter of god.

A princess.

A belle.

Her vigor renews,

she blinks her eyes at

the blinding big world.

And changes it.