Break Point Poem by Mary Champion

A geisha smile graced her lips,
but never reached her almond eyes.
Toddling towards the tea-house-
professionally submissive.

One more sweaty magnate,
as boring as the rest,
another dreary session
sipping tea and simpering.

The painted mask disguised
the depth of her heart's longings,
her pride paid more than he did
to pamper his neuroses.

Still wearing her blank geisha smile,
she followed the conventions -
he'd rented her - she, had no choice -
must posture as his creature.

But something in his oily smile,
ignited her resistance.
Her heart demanded to be heard,
her hand had found a weapon.

She took the pot of scalding tea
And spilt it on his person -
on his most tender person,
where pain is magnified.

 
Astounded by an action -
he could not comprehend,
he moved as if to strike her -
to punish her sedition.

But she smiled at her tomorrow
and this time her eyes were shining.

As she strode into her future
towards a broad horizon,
she folded her heart outwards
like an Origami Promise.