Straddling different worlds,
she feels the mysterious tug of urgencies too acute to dispense with
Over years she’ll repress and camouflage to keep things as they seem
her fingerprints float in jeopardy within a choppy slipstream
The needs of the present don’t care much for dreamy endeavors,
her oatmeal learns to tolerate life without the allure of Ceylon cinnamon
The best they can offer her are fears of no bread on the table
that her hunger has never been about her stomach or lack of Spirit
Ladybug, oh ladybug, your dilemma is now for yourself!
You never stopped to observe how your compliance
has corroded the spots on your wings!
Benjamin Zander poses the question,
“Who am I being, that my children’s eyes are not shining?”
So, at what cost,
I ask you dear ladybug, does the artist continue to surrender her home?
Will tomorrow be a day closer to your death,
or the brush stroke closer to your life?
Bernadette Richards is from Cape Town. She is inspired by diverse forms of art and believes that creativity is one of the best forms of therapy. She writes bits and bobs, including songs, and sings while strumming her nylon-stringed guitar