Poetry

Plumage

“To them, I am no more than a vessel.
A means to an end.
But they will never break me.”

These wings of mine bear no feathers that allow me to take flight. They’ve been clipped, grounding me and stripping me of everything I was. Strong. Independent. Survivor. Just a few of the colors painting me as a person. Now, all that’s left of me is red. It blazes behind my eyes, reflects back at me in the puddle of rainwater at my feet. It follows me wherever I go. With every footstep. In every shadow. And around every corner. For I am no more than a vessel. I am a means to an end. But they don’t see me in that light. In me, they see hope. I was reduced to this, and I allowed it to define me. I let it become my new identity. But it was them that failed to see the plumage beneath. Because I am so much more. I am a woman, too. I am owned, suppressed, and oppressed. I am a victim.

© Sarah Doughty

But they will never
break me.

Prompt: Handmaid’s Tale
hosted by the amazing Christine
at Brave And Reckless.

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5 thoughts on “Plumage”

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