You bubble, a cool afternoon creek
But your words get cut, midsentence.
A slice of anger hurled your way.
Grating, she says. Too loud.
Silence, the stony classroom demands.
I will not talk, I will not talk,
you print on loose leaf paper.
Wrists shaking, pencil pressing
I will not talk, you write,
Two, or is it two hundred, times.
I know they don’t see
You, but I do.
I see your gesso-colored dreams,
your cut-glass visions, spun from gold.
I see your heart woven, to connect
Isis is your favorite.
The Goddess of Magic and Healing
Speak little darling,
don’t lose your voice
Come here. I’ll tell you a diamond truth.
Their anger is a knotted ball, a wildly stomping fear
Close your eyes and blow.
Can you see?
Dandelions scatter in the sun.
Seize a swath of royal blue,
and wrap it gracefully round your neck.
Gather a string of golden rings,
Nest the crown atop your ancient hair.
Speak little darling. Now lift your voice.
Let your wisdom shine.
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