For Elphaba…

por: jo syrup
Feb. 24 2008 1:10AM

You dared to dream, dared for life and achieved greatness. The color couldn’t hold you back, didn’t hold you back. Just the strive to be better, to break free from people’s murmuring opinions and a stranger in a balloon, who established his dominion and his boundaries to keep you grounded. To love and lost, to be loved and cared for, and to never let the gravity of cruel jokes, alienated opinions and unusual injustice keep you down. With your household tool and a cape from a friend, you defied it; you defied all those who lowered their expectations from you, after having met you. Being turned into the face of the evil empire, but you truly are the face of plain misunderstanding. By those who couldn’t understand the true origin of your skin and their lack of acceptance when encountered by a difference that differs their unionist reality.

While no one mourns your untimely demise, I remember your true legacy, the legacy of the West. It was your love, your heart the convinced you of being and accepting the outer perspective from the true inward reality of your being. While water was your birth-born fear, it was the factor that melted the reign of the wicked. But it only extinguished your outer skin, not the flame that burned inside, the one that kept you moving forward, the same one that now burns inside me, pushing me and helping me. To excuse your behavior towards DG, you only tried to retrieve your half-sisters gift, the only piece you had left of Nessarose, of your family, of the Wicked Witch of the East. While others didn’t accept you color, you liberated yourself from the mortal chains that tied you to the unrealistic life you were forced to endure in Shiz, in Quadling Country and Munchkinland. You were free from retrogression, from painful decisions and established your freedom in these seven syllables, in these six words, in The Wicked Witch of the West.