A Birth in Ravensbruck

She was born swollen into a desert—

gentle skin brimming

with droplets of what-could and what-should.

 

Her mother loved folk songs and friday evenings.

Full of silly dreams,

she wished for a life as deep as the ocean.

 

But the sick thing about shoulds is that they can’t.

They cast a bucket down the well

and in hushed expectation, only heard the empty scrapes.

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