Midwest farm raised

Sweet honeysuckle by the fence-line

and suckers stashed in the church pews 

Expected princess 

Playing dress up since age two


Late nights

Muffled conversations 

Mom's ear pressed to the door

She wonders who I'm talking to

She wishes it was she I spoke to more


Books opened

Highlight, take notes, write essays, my head spins

Another report card

And I nap again


Counting down the days

Not quite grown up yet

And living too much too soon


Feet become cinder blocks

I fall against the weight

Crushes become lovers

And he forgot the meaning of a date


Nights at the altar

Mornings on my feet

Learning where joy is

And where shame should never be


Remembering how to stand up

Straight and tall

Finding love and purpose

And strength through it all


With the weight of a wing

Life floats along

I found goodness

In the elements that  molded me



This poem is about: 
My family
Our world


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