There is rarely Wicked Mischievous, human Taker of what, we once hoped, would be Yours Storyteller, shape shifter Navigating self-loathing Defender of all you gave up, trying to claw Vapid, capabilities For such deep love A sisterhood of profound friendship and respect Humanity growing in years That changed us We light one another up Moments of temptation Toying with the idea of delicate shifts on the ledge Forgiveness, after heartbreak For playing into the narrative that made her separate, small Needing protection for huge hearts Fierce, ferocious wisdom You had to be They silence you. Stuck up in your own loathing Instincts, lustfully wanting Wishing, for others Dry humour that pads the fall What constitutes ‘here’ Shell, fights We are not what voices would have us believe Social justice warrior in black and white thinking Emeralds, shattered and torn apart. Under no illusions As the world splits Seeing the ideology Profound sorrow at every level and layer of the facade To the point When nothing can ever, truly, feel like mine Security lost It was never there No one to turn to Your person who fell As did you Rising re-populates, inside
The emotion, joy and reflections
around Wicked
……………………..
Elphaba black and white thinking
Ga-linda shades of pink, glitter layers
crisp, fragile underneath
Bringing in shades of green
.
Elphaba sees the purple in pink
The survival
The deepest shades of maroon
Multi - faceted women teaming
Each wanting to be known,
accepted
and each and every colour of their
souls, seen
.