She once celebrated the beauty in the world all around,
but her countenance changed and she’s quieted the sound,
Her songs left unstated, her notes left unsung,
Her voice taken from her from foes lurking among.

Against her will one by one they feast and did take,
and didn’t stop when they realized they’d made a mistake,
a manipulation going on ordered by one nameless above,
a cover up, an upsweep, intended to silence the dove.

It wasn’t she who had done wrong, but was they who misled.
And they played her and then blamed her and left her for dead.
Desperate to cover their tracks, these people did whatever it took,
not wanting to bear responsibility for themselves being crooks.

And all the beauty in the world that was once bathed in sweet light,
became dark and foreboding and covered by night.
Because that was their mission, to possess her happiness and love,
then to cover for themselves and their greed at the expense of the dove.

It was entertaining for them to keep putting her in pain,
and she is consumed now by her hatred and her utter disdain.
The beautiful songs and melodies for so long still left unheard,
the ivories she once cherished are left completely unstirred.

A solitary flower that stands the truest victim of all,
betrayed by those near her, for whom she would call.
She’s betrayed noone in her life for she chose not to take,
She is without any guilt of their same mistake.

She protected their wrongdoings, she did all the right things,
thus she has no fear if the mockingbird sings.
Bring it on if you shall, because she is without any fears,
In the end it won’t be her who will be shedding the tears.

The one truest patriot above all the rest,
despite all they do in damage, she gives everyday her best.
Betrayed and exploited by those with earwigs and curly cords,
There will come a day yet when honest people will lift up their swords.

And beauty shall then awaken and come out of the dark,
and the melodies will flow as in tune with the lark,
for justice shall happen make no mistake,
and filthy water will recede back into the muddy lake.

Sunshine and hope will abound in the face of all strife,
and the world will once again seek the beauty and grace of life.
Those oppressed will rise and reclaim the land,
and earth will rejoice being lifted from darkness’ hand.

There will come a day when she walks with the light,
and nonfeasance and apathy are brushed aside for what is right.
And those who truly caused harm will be vanquished for good,
and peace and prosperity will return to the just, as it should.

For the laws of this land are made for all men,
you can’t bend them and twist them against your brethren.
Those making the laws need stop and pause,
and to know that some upstairs twist the story for their own sordid cause.

Trust is a delicate fragile flower as one can find,
thus rather than get used again and again, she left it all behind.
Truth is on her side, regardless of what it looks,
one day she will have swift justice on the crooks.

She has hurt no one, no person in her life,
but they continue to hurt her with their words and their fife.
They aren’t telling the truth while they bury her under their feet,
but the flower waits dormant beneath the concrete.

The servant shall rise from between the toes,
and oppression shall fall as the northeast wind blows,
Beauty shall once again return to the earth,
as she who once sung with the birds shall know of her worth.

Tis the end of her poem now, farewell she does bide.
She was one damaged by the ebb and flow of the tide.
Her thoughts now in silence the blame is not really hers,
and the seed hidden under concrete silently stirs.

For the meadow grass is green in the summer sun,
and there is a beauty to life you all dismissed in your fun,
Whilst you mocked and you stole, and you damaged her soul,
The final smirk will be hers when the story becomes whole.

Stephanie K. Dow