Canterburian Tale

Elise Wang

So here’s another story off the shelf,

A tiny tale not unlike any else.

But if you’ll kindly settle down to hear,

Some things are closer than they might appear.

The tale begins one snowy afternoon,

She came out dead, engulfed by mother’s womb.

No breath but swollen wounds upon her skull

No life’s first cry resounded there at all.

Do miracles exist? She would not know

If not for one that came and saved her soul.

A bouncy little caterpillar girl,

She loved exploring in her little world

Of sand and sun and dandelion fun

With tiny hands outstretched then she would run.

Big forehead, small ears and a crooked smile

She did not care, and giggled all the while.

Then came a time when caterpillar girl

Built her cocoon and bent in to a curl.

So little did she know what lies ahead,

A journey on a path few dare to thread.

The walls came up and swallowed what was just

The shadow of a girl, no one to trust.

So every night to keep the surge at bay,

She traced perceptions of herself that day.

They made her feel as if she was a bluff,

Always too much, then not ever enough.

For out the fullness of the heart we speak,

They say, but what about the girl so meek

She couldn’t say a word although her soul

Was filled to overflowing, no one knows.

So day by day the shadow of a girl

Tiptoed along a tightrope, fear unfurled

Along the edge of broken sanity,

She tried escaping from humanity.

But this was not the ending, just a page;

The next would free her from her lonely cage.

That miracle one snowy afternoon

Swooped down and rescued her again from doom

And gently nudged her back in to the light

Where she was filled with purpose, taking flight.

She’s still the preppy thriftster like they know,

Who’s kind and clumsy, not one with the flow.

Still mumbles, sometimes talking to herself,

Dances around her room like no one else.

Caffeine and tea are two of her kind friends,

And bubble tea will not be out of trend.

And weather still dictates her kind of mood

That day and her favourite thing is food.

She’ll snooze no matter where she needs to be:

Her one bemused relationship with sleep.

Dark chocolate, crepes and sushi are to keep

She counts her favourite food instead of sheep.

Her parents are well-spoken, short but she’s

Not challenged vertically, but verbally.

Directionally too she might agree,

If left alone she’ll wander off to sea.

And what she really needs is balanced life,

But thoughts so heavily weigh down her mind.

If she could fly away in a balloon

She would indeed, and not return till June.

A year ago she stood upon this floor,

Two monologues she spoke behind this door

Of Romeo and dear sweet Juliet,

Two star-crossed lovers’ deadly pirouette.

She’s on her own a broken fairytale

A silent film that writhes and cries and flails.

But now she sees the good in every bad,

Her open palms catch joy when she is sad.

Life’s bittersweet, but that’s what makes it good,

A box of chocolates so divine none should

Refuse, she finds the tiny miracles

In every waking moment spiritual.

She is the moon, but now positioned right

Beside the Sun, she now reflects the light.

She looks around now all that which she sees

Is vibrant beauty up and down the streets.

Because of pain that she had known so long,

She pours herself in making others strong.

And everyone no matter how they seem,

Has loved, has lost, has feared, has hoped, has dreamed.

So there’s another story off the shelf,

A tiny tale that’s unlike any else.

No head, no tale will ever be the same

And it’s my joy to stand here and proclaim

That we are each a wondrous work of art

Of which not all will seek to be a part

And reach to look beyond the open page

To understand and dare to be amazed.

If I could travel back three years in time,

I’ll tell myself these words without the rhyme:

You’re wonderful, no, just the way you are,

No need to chase around a shooting star.

For in this world there’s no one that can leave

Your mark that yours alone, can you believe

That every morning angels sing your song

To bless your heart, the battle has been won.

Don’t be afraid to stretch your arms out wide

And catch the little miracles come by.

Let oceans of tomorrow come what may,

But dare to spread a little love today.