Yorktown Square

Yorktown Square

She was a neon prison

that would not light up,

caged in cables, barbed-wire bulbs,

screwed in too tight, screwed up.

She was a silhouette of what she could be,

a stray electron in a dream

of organized wires,

of polished glass,

trust the flow

and let it go –

but she was stuck in a loop –

LET ME GLOW!

and no one heard

and no one saw

as she traced each letter

of the wall –

YORKTOWN SQUARE

in disrepair,

and no one cared –

she felt alone –

a neon sign

that lost its home,

how a firefly without its flame,

went dark, invisible –

it needed its spark –

a reason, a dream,

to live, to grow,

to sort out the circuit

install a new switch,

to turn off the hurt,

the I’m all alone,

to remind her

of all the love in her home.

She was a student,

she had to learn,

the ways to rewire, reinspire –

to tell herself

I am worth it

I am admired

to allow that classy neon smile.

She is a teacher,

a beacon, a bridge

light-bearing, eye-catching,

an example of someone

who made it, who fixed it,

a sign – that it’s possible to shine

after being dark for a long time.