We Had No Aspirations Now
I am like an oak, she had often told us.
I will never bend to anyone’s will, especially not his.
He was her captor, so she decided to bend.
Like a willow, to survive.
By the time she was finished
she was a dandelion, and all of her determined pieces had blown away.
What was left standing was not powerful enough for tea.
The oak with the iron will was no more.
The rest of us had been mere acorns.
We had no aspirations now
except to survive our captors.
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