By Maria Thomas
Congrats! It's a girl.
Swaddled in blankets,
Pink bows and clips.
Little did I know,
The words marked the beginning
Of an end.
The clock has started ticking.
Time to go to school.
Math feels icky,
I am starting to feel like a fool.
My mother warns,
I must study.
To stand on my feet.
While hers had slipped and
She had fallen.
Scared, I poured over my books,
Science, English and even Math.
I tried to master the waves,
To command the ship of my fate.
To flee,
I must learn to fly.
The clock is ticking,
The marks of a rope,
Materialize on my mother's feet.
Warnings and threats bellow,
From the hollows in her chest.
I have inherited her dreams,
Her aches and regrets,
They loom large over me.
Flashing and searing my eyes.
The clock has done its ticking.
My time had apparently run out.
I look down in horror,
To find my feet on the ground
My wings were late to sprout
I hadn't flown yet.
Dreams have shattered around me
Mine and hers as well.
Eyes are watching and judging
Wondering the chess master's next move
Will she make me the pawn or
Will I be the Queen?
Another pawn it is.
Can't break the rule book,
Must be tied to a King
To birth other pawns.
I struggle to get off,
her chessboard.
Now I am labelled,
A trouble.
I take a breath.
I leap off the edge
I flee,
I must learn to fly.
My hands shiver.
My lungs ache.
I want to keep swimming,
But it also feels nice to drown.
I force my eyes open,
I utter a senseless prayer,
To a universe or God,
That had birthed little girls .
I am claw my way up.
The waves crash and slash.
The salt burns and stings,
A reminder I am still alive.
The waters are dark still,
But I sense a change.
A slight quiver,
An urge to break the cage.
I do not know how this ends,
For it is still being written.
And I hope I can pen,
The closing lines.
With a feather from my wings.
Congrats, I am a girl.