She walks down the streets,
Her red dress rippling by
the gentle breeze
The shadow she silently desists.
Folly and suppression follow her
as she walks towards freedom
as she heads towards the murky pool of survival
as she lunges towards the end of the
beginning of her life.
She weighs every word she says
balancing it on the scales with
every word that has been said.
She takes time to decide and
in her mind she measures her words
till she is assured of its solidity
before saying it out.
She sits at the piano
gently kneading out her melody
woeful tunes fill the air
tunes of rebellion
melodies of rights
songs of freedom
And in them, she immerses herself
Through chords she paints a picture
of who she was
of who she is
of who she wants to be.
Her sharp eyes view the hole in the dam
the chink in the armor
the loose brick in the wall
And the wall gently crumbles under her watchful gaze
brick by boring brick.
