The Singer
There was once a girl who could sing beautiful songs
In her head.
Walking lonely on the sidewalk she would quietly
Whisper the words to an anthem that
Blared in her mind louder than the cars on the street
Rushing by her.
She sang her songs quietly to
Herself as she worked,
Humming an incoherent tune
To the music that her brain had put on
Record for her.
And people laughed at her. Her songs, her
Beautiful music and the
Wonderful words that they could never hear.
And she smiled to herself and kept on
Singing. Because the people could never know that
Her Melodies could turn gray skies into
Rainbows,
Her Harmonies could turn rain into
Bright, shining sun.
She sang through all the bad things.
She sang when her parents fought.
She sang when she saw people cry.
She sang when she walked past the homeless man who slept under the bridge—
The one who fought in the war.
She sang when people told her to stop, because they didn’t know.
They didn’t know that she could never stop singing.
And they would laugh
And scream
And cry and
Make fun of her.
And still she sang.