They couldn’t see her
She was a super hero
Heart shinning it’s light
to bring her gifts to the world
Attention captured each moment
How does that fly
She wanted to know
Learn what it would take for her to grow
Into the lady at the shop
the beautiful girl who sang
The one with the surfboard
She was watching very carefully
and she saw lies leaking out
the corner of their eyes
and their mouths
It was confusing
because sometimes
their heart was right
and that would give her a fright
who to trust
who to turn to
sometimes
they were so angry
she wanted to hide
but her angels
were always there
travelled with her
showed her how to care
and as she grew she knew
they were mainly just scared
some damaged too
she peered around the facades and saw dreamers, weavers, creators
She saw designers, growers, healers and makers
She knocked carefully on the glass
to see if she could get past
But their eyes were
telling her not to
break the illusion they
had so carefully tended
if the illusion got shattered
How could it get mended
She fell to her knees and yelled out please
and then she got mad
and refused to be sad
if you can’t be glad
I’ll destory everything you could have had
I’ll swear and Ill sulk an I’ll throw the first stone
I’ll scream in your face
till you have to get out of your home
Because I am sick and tired of being crazy
and feeling that reality is altered and hazy
She picked up a stick which she crashed on their head
only two of them noticed most fell into bed
Overwhelmed by their complicit guilt and shame
They took it all seriously not just part of the game
So she tried another tactic
She opened them wide
Climbed into the space
Where they were certain to hide
Sitting down with a big cup of tea
She asked them if ever
they had wanted to be
things other than where
they come to be trapped
things which with her they
could make a pact
To spread out those wings
Escape and then fly
Safely holding her hand
as they hovered in the sky
Once they got the big picture
Surveyed the terrain
their life would never ever be the same
and she’d let go of them with a little swift kick
She’d leave them alone hoping they would fly
Truth be told she didn’t want
them to see her cry
Because they were now a competent
angel in her eye
Some poems
are made for telling
Some poems are made for care
Others are made just to let
others know your there
Some poems are made
for loving some poems
are made for fun
Others poems are made
to give you a swift
kick up the bum.
Find
“The Poet” Louise Moriarty
on facebook to request your own personal poem
or busking in Byron during the writers festival