September 22, 2020
I came upon herlate in the dayat the edge of the path,alone. The armless maidenThe wingless angelwhatever one would call herthere she wasstranded. Kneeling at the gravesideeyes turned toward heavenbeseechingor accusingno way to tell. Hands and armscrumbled to dustand I am remindedof the fairy-tale girlbetrayed by her fathergiven away like chattel. The daughtersacrifices her hands,surrenders them to bloody stumps,rather than be boughtand tradedlike so muchlumber. But this one–this forgotten girlat the edge of the pathhas lost more than hands.Rising from her backrusty bones that once heldwings. The twisted ironhovers behind heras if it remembersflight. The crumbling remnantsreach toward heavenbeseechingor accusingno […]