George
by Sage Louise Endaragalla, Camberwell Girls Grammar School
Years 5 – 6 Performance Poetry Finalist
To be their daughter, or to be myself?
That is the voice echoing in my chest.
They whisper “Georgina”—a name like lead,
That sinks the iron boat of my resolve.
But soft! I strike that title from their tongues.
I am George. No less, no other. George.
Look how they carve the world in neat designs:
Julian, the golden prince of righteous rule;
Dick, the quick wit; and Anne, the gentle hearth.
And I? The thorn within their ordered garden.
The sullen creature of my father’s wrath,
Whose love is locked in dusty, cryptic books,
While mine is written on the crashing surf.
Oh, Kirrin Isle! My fortress and my crown!
Thy jagged rocks do not command my grace,
Nor do thy winds demand a maiden’s smile.
And thou, truest companion of my soul—
Good Timmy, whose loyal heart outshines all men—
Thy silent gaze beholds no fragile girl.
Thou see the captain hidden in this breast.
They deem our summer quests a merry game,
A pleasant pastime in the briar and cave.
They see the smuggler caught, the treasure found,
But blind they remain to my true battle line:
Each cavern dark is where I hide my truth,
Each villain felled, a strike for liberty.
Let the world roar its old, decreeing laws.
I am the flint. I am the sovereign storm.
No silken thread shall bind this wilder heart.