Trials & Tribulations
in the end (Mid Res #)
“Perhaps you have figured it out by now, but little girls don’t stay little forever,”
–Kyle Stephens
i.
little girls don’t stay little forever
beautifully–innocent
dependent on the world to love them
which it rarely does properly
ii.
little girls accidentally wander into forbidden forests
face their worst nightmares
they meet the big bad wolf–incinerated by his manipulations
perverted to do the world’s bidding
slowly learning to play with the beast
iii.
abandoned–charred
too dirty to be incorruptible, something different
they survive–become stronger
they persist–embracing the darkest of nights
iv.
there won’t be a fire hot enough to burn them
or a stone heavy enough to crush them
even the fear of death itself will not
stop these girls from getting what they want
their freedom–their revenge
v.
they rise again–like the Phoenix before them
these little girls–forged into women
by the most grotesque imaginations of man
their lips no longer sewn shut
vi.
they become the change the world fears
they run underground railroads
create red crosses
birth gods
emboldened–
vii.
they embrace the roles they are left to play
the whores–the mothers–the crones
come back to reclaim their stolen paradise
to destroy the very thing that created them
About the Creator
Stacey Mataxis Whitlow
A recently published and award winning poet, my days are mostly spent adulting. My daydreams are filled with an unquenchable wanderlust, and my sleepless nights are haunted by an unrequited love affair with words.
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More stories from Stacey Mataxis Whitlow and writers in Poets and other communities.
Disarmament
They say there's no atheism in the foxhole. While I wasn't currently neck-deep in a river of soft sediment, I was still praying to whoever would listen. Why am I doing this again? I would ponder while staring at the device that in no less than a minute could be my undoing. I scanned each and every variable panel and commonplace button as I watched the bright red L.E.D ticker countdown. No wires to cut, no code to put in, there was only one way to stop this infernal machine, and that incurred perfect timing.
By James U. Rizzi3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Thank you for reading. I used to resent the hell out of the quote by Ernest Hemingway — “There's nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” Now, I understand on a visceral level what he meant. Some stories must be bled out or they will poison you. This is that story for our family. This poem is different from any of my others, as it is an excerpt from what will ultimately be my first (and most likely only) multi media/ multi genre work. Mid Res starts in the middle of what is one of the darkest moments of my adult life. But as my daughter and the universe have expressed to me over and over again during these last three years, it is a story that can help others; a story that “deserves to be told.” I originally drafted this collection on the advice of my therapist. When it was finished, I allowed my daughter to read it over in order to decide if we would burn it, ignore it, or release it to the world. She voted that we release it. As you will soon learn, K is braver and stronger than most. It is how she survived the unspeakable for far too long by herself. Mid Res isn’t only my story, and unfortunately it isn’t only K’s story. This work demands collaboration. As a result, Mid Res will most likely be my first and possibly only collaboration with my daughter, and we might even crowdsource some parts of it here from your comments and the world in general. Our collaboration could use your help too. If you are moved by what you read, or you can relate, or you have been here, or you love someone who has, or you want to read more, please support our work by posting, sharing, commenting, subscribing, and/or tipping. In an attempt to thank you for your support, K and I will send anyone who tips any amount throughout the release of this series, a copy of the work when (and if) it is published. It will be our way of paying you back for your incredible generosity and support. The hope is to crowdfund the publication of this work, so we never have to hand our story over to another to distort. So any support you can offer us is greatly appreciated. As always, thanks for reading. It means the world (and a half-penny) to us! 💜 K (the daughter, the work’s illustrator and its editor) and Stacey (the mother, the work’s poet and its writer/researcher).
Innocence lost is maturity blooming