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A Robin's Song

"The day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom"

-Anais Nin


The first thing I learned about sex was that it was a particularly secret and slippery taboo. It was forever to remain just below the surface. My lips were never meant to speak of even an idea of its existence. For the devil would hear my thoughts and that liquid sin of sex would quickly flood my entire being. For even children understand there are things everyone does but no one says aloud. How confusing then to feel the first natural stirrings in the pit of my stomach. The horror I felt as I looked in the mirror and knew it was a slimy devil running through and in my veins. What stray thought had I let pass unguarded that allowed satan to enter my bed and my body this way? Why had god not protected me? I was ensnared by the enemy surely. Another thing that no one spoke of. My secret possession. Why does this devil turn to angel in the dusk of a wedding ceremony? What age does the pot become the kettle? When do fairy tales stop dancing in your dreams and the burden of reality become your waking nightmare? When do the devils of the womb burst forth? How long must a child carry that babe before deliverance comes? When can the blessed cup of blood touch the lips and be only wine? The traps set by the enemy know not of age. Cold hands and painted finger nails can remove children's underwear and discard tiny belts with swift ease. A particularly slippery little devil. Moves in silence right in front of your eyes so you cannot, will not, speak of it. Skinny little girls with knobby knees, dark hair, and eyes too wise for her age. Watching as the robin returned to her nest to find a cat had stolen her eggs. But surely she only dreamed of those eggs. Surely cats don't even like eggs. Silly silly robin. Now that caged bird only sings a jail bird's tune.

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