Autobiography (posted to Facebook on 7/2/08)

they used to
laugh at her lisp,
but now she's talking pretty.
after suffering a few stings
by beloved queen bees
and wondering why
her own people pointed
and laughed...she said
"one day i'll fight these battles."
for now, she's sitting
behind her books,
report card sunny-side-up
on her desk. but she said
she'd get there sometime.
and sometime came.
because she found fight
in her fingers one day,
saw red and showed them all
just how bright and bloody it was...
but it still didn't feel right.
so she let herself be buried
under the rubble of harsh words,
the sticks and the stones,
voice choked in by cries.
one night, bleary-eyed, those fingers
poked out from those ashes
and grasped the power of a pen.
she pulled herself out--
never mind the damage done--
and began to find
peace in poetry.
no stuttering this time,
they're hearing it ring carillon-clear:
every line in place,
the anger erased,
imperfections replaced,
she's starting to taste
victory now, now that
pressure's met praise.
fingers have stopped pointing;
instead hands are clapping--
does it sound like she's still lisping?