White Marching Slippers

After three years of sweat

of being physically and emotionally broken

of bolstering myself to stand erect the next day

of crying

of giving dressing room pep-talks

of practicing

of guiding others as I had been guided

of insolently refusing to quit

I wear a pair of white Dinkles.

While Cinderella dreamed of a better tomorrow

And slaved away for her step-family,

I trudged through mud and wind and rain

And worked for the benefit of my surrogate family.

When harsh words from staff members tore me down

And broke me open

Like a geode, I learned what I was truly made of --

Iron.

More flexible than steel

But still durable,

I proudly wore my newly-exposed backbone

as an unbreakable slipper --

Far removed from Cinderella’s of glass.

Though I once found myself as helpless as the future princess,

With the love of those around me,

I rose above servitude to self-doubt.

However, my fairy godmother did not manifest herself

As a benevolent old woman

But as a stubborn resilience --

As a will to carry on

When the world tore my dress to shreds

And threw away my invitation to the ball.

My fairy godmother manifested her blessings

As an ever-expanding circle of friends

Who complained as hard as I did

And opened my mind

To new channels of thought

And innovative ways

To express the meaning of “love.”

I am flawless

Because of them

Because of their immense love

Because of obstacles I should not have been able to beat

Because of intense reconstruction

Because I led well enough to be the drum major

Because no prince fit a glass slipper on my foot;

I donned those Dinkles myself.