5 AM, Monday Morning, the end of summer.
She sits in boxers and tank top on the balcony,
smoking a long thin French cigarette, dreading it all.
Her big black mutt lays sleeping at her feet, content.
She takes a measure of peace from his calm and love.
Today, Sophomore year begins, back to college, and noise.
The sun rises slowly, slicing the night away, strip by bloody strip.
The strips pulling away, another one goes, closer to class time.
Time to get dressed, time to prepare her mind, time to face the world.
She puts out the spent cigarette, gets up and goes inside to get ready.
The people and chatter and the traffic and hot and merciless sun.
But there’s somewhere she wants to be, so walks through fire and noise.
In her dark clothes, backpack over her shoulder, hair under bandana,
she says goodbye to her dog, who whimpers after her at the door,
and walks out into a still cool morning, knowing the peace will not last.
Soledad lay on the couch, feverish and cold,
watching a show she adored at 8 years old.
Mighty Maid! The Girl of Justice! Princess of Good!
Soledad saw her save the day, heroine of childhood!
The lonely afternoons spent watching a colorful place.
Adventures in a better land, a sweet time and space.
Her own world was broken, and she walked alone,
to school, to the park to dream, to her neglectul home.
Soledad dreamed one day she’d be brave and strong,
that she could help the hurting, make right from wrong.
Soledad dreamed, and thought of a life so wonderful,
full adventures, friends and a boy so devoted and hopeful.
The shouts at night, the sparse cubbards, the sleepless nights.
They would all fade away, scars healed, when she put it all to rights.
Now 18, still stuck, still left behind, sick and trembling in the dark,
she watched Mighty Maid be as pure and innocent as ever, eternal spark.
Soledad wondered if she find her place, make a dent in indifference.
If she could help those like her, or if any would come in her defense.
Mighty Maid flies up into the sky, a heroine touched by the sun.
Was it really cold in this world? For the broken, is there no one?