My Scars, My Story

My curls screamed
as they were straightened.
My songs
were stripped from my lungs.
Fresh freedom
was depleted when I gasped.
Shackles of indoctrination
imprisoned my peers.
I was alone.
Time was never on my side
in that small tired town.
Even when I left,
cruel judgment branded
a lasting impression—
scars that are just
a part of my story
that I’ll finish in my own words.

My poetry book gives an atheist perspective on being a Midwest Mom. It is for sale on my publisher’s site freethoughthouse.com, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon. (Signed copies are available at freethoughthouse.com.)