“Look at her sparkle” they whisper,
glancing sideways as she glides along
across the dance floor like a lit ruby
bursting with life in her sequinned dress.
“Look at her sparkle” they cackle
as she tackles conversation like an art
and masters comedy like fishermen
master the fish, hook, line and sinker.
“Look at her sparkle” they jeer and jest
hoping to capture her light in their cruelty.
Like careless children catching fireflies
they strip away her wings and leave her naked.
They batter her with words, red dress rent
and her strength is gone, her words all spent.
Until finally she can sparkle no longer, dull
and defeated, one of them, or so they think.
I can see beyond the tired facade of falseness,
beneath the lies painted on to cover the cracks
and past the pleas for that light to shine again.
I simply point her to a mirror and whisper,
“Look how you glow! Look how you’ve lived life
and how you’ve learned livid lessons.
Look how you’ve loved and lost and lived.
Look how you have laughed till you cried.
Look at how you glow!”