say your name.

the only way - he said -

to keep your mind

is to give up all this

fantasy fairyland

stop writing

stop imagining

live in the real world

where people will crush you

and never care

you can't earn favor with God

so Honor Thy Father

stop this 'creativity'

or you'll wake up one day

forgetting your name

forgetting who you really are

you'll forget at school

and make such a fool of yourself

in front of all those people


prove to me

you really do still know

the six-year-old blinks back

swelling tears in wide, believing eyes

wanting to ask him

why he doesn't celebrate

her gifts: reading, writing, imagining

at such an early age

as her mother and teachers do

instead, another layer

of her soul falls away

choked by the forever futile attempt

to deny who she really is

not born for this

but to fly with the stars