A mural in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Photo by Gosia Rokicka [CC BY-NC-SA]

Changeling

There is a room

with nothing but a whisper,

There is a door

that leads to hidden halls.

She enters it

to follow her dead sister,

Then she emerges

with secrets, dreams and dolls.

There is a whisper

of dolls with hidden secrets,

There is a dream

haunting her every night —

Her sister comes,

the room is full of sweetness,

There is no fear,

surprise, question or fight.

She looks around —

the night is breaking slowly

Letting the light

surprise shadows and lies.

Dead she’s no more —

the moon is hanging lowly,

Love fills her lungs,

questions arise, she cries.

In hidden halls

light lingers on the verges —

There is a sister

who whispers day and night.

Shadows disperse,

she finally emerges —

There is a doll

who keeps secrets alive.

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