The Idealist

Looking at her, you would never guess that her heart beat like a lioness'.
She drove with the brashness of one who knows the roads, even if she didn't.
She dressed as though no one, but her, would notice her.
She dreamed with all the power that beat in her lioness heart.

They called her a stargazer.
They called her a fool.
They called her a dreamer.
They called her an idiot.

She never listened to them, her mind already taking her somewhere else.
She lived the way she wanted to. She dreamt and she danced.
She moved with the grace of a ballerina and the joy of a bird.
She dared to be an optimist in a world that frowned upon the word.

And when they came to break her spirit, she laughed at them.
When they came to take her joy, she fought back.
When they told her she was an idealist, she embraced the word.
When they tried to drag her down, she rose higher.

They tried to destroy Joan of Arc, but you cannot burn the spirit.
And, like Joan of Arc, she burned at the stake of lust and hatred,
but she did not die. She merely rose higher than any of them could imagine.
She transcended their ignorance and she changed the world with a word.