The Mouse That Roared

She was one of
The nicest people
You could ever meet,
Always smiling
And seldom complaining,
In fact, I don’t ever recall
In all the years I knew her,
Her ever disagreeing
With anyone about anything.
She never said very much
About herself,
Never even hinted
That there might be
Something about her life
Even worth talking about.
She was a pretty girl though,
And quite attractive
In her quiet sort of way.
She just couldn’t seem to
Articulate what was on her mind,
In fact, no one had a clue
What she was thinking.
This made for certain complications
Especially when it came to dating.
She tended to attract
The dominant types
Who could keep themselves entertained
Listening to the sound
Of their own voice,
The ones to whom
It would never occur
To speculate on
What she might like to do.
Guys who wanted
A real conversation
Would probably look elsewhere.
She tended to be
An ornamental piece
That guys liked to be seen with,
But soon tired of
For lack of feedback.
She longed for more
Than what she was getting,
But didn’t express that
Very powerfully either.
The concept that she has
Something worth saying
May not seem so radical,
But when that notion
Took hold inside her head,
A different person emerged.
She found that her observations,
Insights and understandings
Were as valid as those
Of anyone else,
And that there was no
Viable reason to hold them back
Or hide them from the world.
She began to interact more forcefully
Expressing her will,
Determining the way things were
Rather than just taking what came.
She began to speak out
Instead of holding back
In fear of offending people.
She didn’t stop being nice,
But the source of her being so
Now came from respect
For herself as well as others,
Not from some underlying fear
Of what they might
Or might not be thinking.
This new way of being
Transformed her world
And made her a force
To be reckoned with.