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  • Writer's picturemadamelidoine

How it was. How it could be.

(A little wish for Australian opera)

A small child sings at church, or in a choir.

A sensitive adult notices the clarity, the tone,

A steward appears, a teacher

The child’s voice grows, the fire is lit.

Drama begins, a show, a moment in the sun

That everyone notices, and then another champion!

That child becomes a woman, her passion was sparked so early that it

Has always felt like destiny.

She follows it without pause.

The ladder is placed at her feet, and she climbs.

She swings from one branch to the next:

A small job, a training program, again, singled out until

One day, the curtains open on her at the biggest house in Australia.

The journey has brought her this far, and the teachers, the programs

The small opportunities that led to the bigger dreams.

She saw others go before her, others like her,

Big, beautiful Aussie sops and mezzos,

They led the way, and they shone the light back down the path.

Now she can stay, or she can go, but she always knows

That in her own land, her own country, in front of her own people

She was seen. She was allowed to dream, and to succeed.

One day, far down the track, she turns her shining head back:

To all those ones who helped, who believed and who championed,

She sends love with her whole heart, and a desire is born:

To be the mentor, to be the champion.

To hear the voice, at church or at choir,

To single out the little dreamer, and to send her on her path.

A school is born, a program, a seminar

Like a beacon, it calls to all those little girls

And they dance towards it, and sing towards it,

And when they arrive, they soak in the knowledge, and they place

A now stronger foot on that bottom rail of the ladder, and they

Start to climb. This time higher. This time louder and faster.

And they too ascend. And they stand before the curtain

Smiling ear to ear, and free

To go or to stay, but either way, to succeed.

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