Thursday, March 5, 2009

To Jill

by Jill Roy

To you I am a shadow who reflects nothing,
So you change me
To you I am a speechless voice,
So you do not hear anything other than self

To you I am the second chance to fix the errors of life
So you do not hear my cries of pain
To you I am the servant that will not ask for pay,
So you ignore me

And I know that you do not see it
But I will not tell you because...
To you I am the light of the morning sun
So you sit and watch

To you I am the scream of direction
So you listen

To you I am the one who makes the difference
So you adore it

To you I am the jewel of the crown
So you care for me

But I do not want to be to you
For to me is what I praise

For to me I am the individual in the crowd
Though no one sees me

For to me I am the sound of help
When no one is brave enough to ask

For to me I am the last hope
When the battle is yet to begin

For to me I am the employer
Though the reward is far greater than the deed

And though it may seem to you now,
That you are to me nothing

You are to me more
To you is strong, to me is better

To me you are the monster
So I dare not try anything

To me you are the dictator
So I rebel

To me you are the guidance
So I will not question you

To me you are freshness in the air
So I gaze at you

And now to they...

To they is the terrors of life

To they is the walls we hide behind

To they is the secret we wish never to meet

To they is nothing

To they is the cause of all wrong

To they is why we hide

To they is the evil

For to they has become great
Though it should not be

For those who listen to they
Are the losers of life

The losers who hide behind walls
Walls that crumble and destroy you

Jill is a 12 year old who visits my office everyday (I work in a school), speaks perfect English, with great diction and perfect manners. Compared to her mental maturity, mine is at a tender age of ten. Anyway, she ended up writing about 5 poems one night because she did not have any homework. This is just one of them. I started crying when I read her poems for the simple reason that it feels like we've been searching for the same thing from this world- our identity. It made me envious that she had a gift- the gift of courage. The courage to face uncertainty, to question what it means to become who we truly and to see the world as it is. Oh, and more importantly, to write and share about it. She's amazing.

I want to be 12 again- minus the curfew.


Pippo Bengzon said...

Holy cow, 12 years old? The girl is prodigy.

Nicole said...

It's so honest. Beautiful.

Sheila said...

Pippo: Grabe noh? 12 and she's a pro!

Nicole: yeah super! Glad you guys liked it!