If I were but invisible…
Would you see me?
Take notice of a turned page,
The flicker of a candle’s flame?
If my hand existed only as silhouette,
Would you indulge in my fancy
Of more profitable script?
I think we should be as ghosts–
My sisters and I–
Wandering about in poetry and prose
And upon our leaving this constrictive plane,
Would you see us off,
Clear the path along the bramble…
Dismiss us not and wish us well?
Would you be our brother, truly?
We can be as superlative as any man…
Charlotte, Emily, Anne.
(The Bronte sisters… What would it feel like to live in such a rich world of internal language and not have the immediate means to share such talents, to be denied the opportunity to flourish… to have skill be rendered meaningless for not being born man?)