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The River and the MaidenStumbling amidst the toothy stones
A young maiden crumbled to a halt
She knelt defeated in the rivers bed
Her long locks and tear strewn eyes amidst the rush
They cleansed her bleeding fingertips and sooty toes
Her callused hands softened with the tenderizing surge
A stained blouse, torn and caught in the current
The river offered with slender hands to dance
It would gladly hoist her from her troubles
The river sought out every cleft the girl offered
Her gloomy memories could not be snagged
With each tug at her golden strands she offered no answer
Despite her aching bones pleas for attention
The maidens stony figure fixed resilient
Her tangled sinews strained to relax amidst the stress
The battering river rinsed and foamed with excitement
A precious gem lodged within its jagged teeth
They gazed at each other with their hazel eyes
Trying to find lasting peace in the others disobedience
To no avail as both appear lost in one anothers eyes
She strikes the river wit
Teenage TaoismGiving birth is the closest I’d ever felt to dying.
Before that, my near death experiences had consisted only of my silent announcement of pregnancy—silent, being that my social media accounts were all deleted almost simultaneously and I never returned to school in the fall, saying without really saying that I had caught the malicious disease of “teenage pregnancy”. I’m sure the whisper spread in the hallways like the Bubonic Plague. That September, sitting at home on what would have been the first day of my senior year, I imagined friends I’d never talk to again saying “she was only seventeen, and so full of life!” at my absence in the cafeteria tables, as if they were attending my funeral instead of talking about me behind my back.
"Full of life," I had snorted then, folding a never ending stream of what had once been my own baby clothes. "Literally."
I walked around like a zombie for the months of my pregnancy, deciding t
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