At Sixteen
I cut off my hair.
Long locks of
obedience fell to
the floor without reverence.
Not content to be
my father's daughter
at Bible study,
I went out on the town.
Rebellious he shouted,
certain my future
was damned.
But this, my first stand,
forged me. Samson braced
against crumbling columns,
without regret.
Strong is as strong does.
Defiant could no longer
define me, strength could.
 |
| Regina Gort at 16 |
Gina: Another wonderful poem. At 16, my rebellion was to have long hair. :-)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ann. It so funny to look back at teenage angst. I am glad that I can look back and laugh at myself :)
ReplyDeleteWonderful, Gina. I love the way your words can be powerful like in this poem or gentle like in some of your nature ones. They embrace my soul in different ways.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kathy! I may hire you for my daily dose of sunshine and rainbows!
DeleteLovely poem - so full of teenaged angst and stubbornness. Really captures the mood of that age.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jane Ann. It was fun to go back and find those feelings. And also be able to look at them with seasoned eyes.
Delete"Samson braced
ReplyDeleteagainst crumbling columns"
Love.
Thanks, J!
DeleteOuch on cutting your hair. That is a fine subject in itself. I think it's a fine poem and a great visual.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Margaret!
DeleteGreat images for that time of life and the situation.
ReplyDelete