18 June 2012
The drizzle stings her teenage skin, Lies peppered in her gentle plaits.
The buggy holds her special joy. She grips it tight as buildings loom... The home she's making for her boy Is cut from council - one drab room.
And yet, she's feathered it with care; Characters from magazines Snipped and glued. Toys here and there. A life paved and paid beyond her means.
He cannot know her sacrifice. His foster parents won't let on. This world can't give her 'safe' or 'nice' She's leaking hope. Strength almost gone.
Her family have turned their backs They wear smooth blinkers tinted rose. No forms can give her what she lacks. The doors of flat and options close.
A plug hole in this concrete slum Is tugging at her spinning feet: Lost work, the bills, a borrowed sum To child with child, this is defeat.
And so she packs the baby's things. Drops him to the dear next door. She kisses 'bye' and briefly sings, Then takes the stairs to the highest floor.
Out on the roof, horizons bow And call a girl who's on the edge. She leaves her shoes. It's time to go. Barefoot, she steps right off the ledge.
Sixteen floors and sixteen years Flicker in two jaded eyes She fashions wings from steely tears, Then with a sigh, relieved, she flies.
She Flies • Opuss № I