A Peacock's Tale

I have a 6th grade student ("Julie") who can be delightfully charming some days and belligerently disagreeable the next.  She is beautiful but can be ugly at the same time; it's clear that there is much beneath the surface with this child.

Julie absolutely hates to write about anything we direct her to write but loves writing poetry "just for fun," and regularly shares her poems with me. The speed and ease with which she can whip out a poem in less than 10 minutes is amazing.  Here's the one she showed me this week (and gave permission for me to "share with some friends of mine.").

The Peacock's Tale

As quiet as the river flows

Upon a branch a peacock rose

She cried out softly to the moon

I live in fear for I'm to die soon

All of my hardships I must tell

For I am never to get well

She told of promises that she broke

She told of children that never woke

She cried about the relationship that failed

She yelled about the war between her and the quail

She told about everything in the life she led

In the morning by the river she was found dead

Yet if you go down to where the river flows

You might hear the soft coo of the peacock

as she tells of her story the night she rose.

Twelve years old...

Were you this deep at age 12?