When I was born,
I took a breath and
absorbed all the
dreams and lives
I could lead soon.
I took a breath,
just before my
parents held me
between them and
in that loving nest,
a second womb,
I grew. Their warmth
kindled my flames
and I burned to try
living. I grew until
the space was too
small. Suffocating,
The flame was stifled,
smothered, I prayed
for death, if I died
they would have to
let me go, I swore
they would. I would
slip like ash through
their fingers and then
I could join the fertile,
nurturing soil for
wildflowers. Wild,
no one would ever
put them in a vase.
My parents could not
display them at the
funeral of me.


**V. K.