and a good one named Glinda,
vying for power in a land of enchanted splendor,
intrigue at the palace of a murdered father
and the prophecy of another wizard
to rescue the jackbooted city of Emerald.
the magical incantation
of the carnival magician--
heartthrob/breaker of women
chased by the strongman
transported to Oz by a rogue tornado,
meek and powerless, out of control,
the floating balloon of a bumbling buffoon,
yet protected in an iridescent bubble
when pursued by flying baboons
of vicious trouble....
Landing in a land
where good people are forbidden to kill,
but where wicked witches do it at will.
A romantic triangle,
a feeling of betrayal
confirmed by the image in the crystal ball,
the bite of a proffered poisoned apple,
electrifying fury, the jade of jealousy,
latent and subliminal.
Then a flight to the light of the dawning east,
from the cauldron of darkness in the desolate west,
a tornadic terrorist
toying with her non-wizard marionette
delivering a dire and ominous threat:
"You'll be the first one I put to death."
But even when the wizard didn't believe in himself,
Glinda believed and never gave up--
"If you believe, anything is possible,"
and if you believe in someone,
they become invincible.
A march on the city by straw soldier decoys,
"Dare they,” said the witches, “march now on us?"
The Trojan horse of the stereoscopic wagon
and the con man and charlatan
becomes the illusionary sultan,
a parallel world Edison,
waiting patiently for Dorothy and Toto,
the cowardly lion, tin man and scarecrow.
Hypnotized at first by the glimmer and glitter,
the taker of treasure becomes a generous giver
of meaningful and lasting gifts:
a family for the China Doll,
and for the monkey, his friendship,
a thingamabob for the tinker
a smile for surly Snook
and his trumpet of fanfare....
And then he waved the wand of decree,
proclaiming the inhabitants to always be free...
he became a man with a righteous cause,
the Wonderful Wizard,
the Wizard of Oz.
We may not be exactly
what people have been looking for,
but we just may be the ones they need
to open the door
to walk the yellow brick road of the future,
and we and they can never say,
"He or she made me this way,
they did this to me,
we bear no responsibility."
We must use what we have,
the things we've packed in our own little bags;
there's always room to grow
and we're more capable than we know.
We may not be in Kansas any more,
but wherever we go, there we are,
till suddenly we become awake
and we no longer live our lives to be great
but strive instead for goodness,
the goodness inside, that's always been there
It's time to remember who we really are,
and not what we've become:
As homesick Dorothy eloquently said,
clicking her heels of ruby red,
"There's no place like home....
there's no place like home.......
And while others can help us get there,
we must ultimately go there