2-4-08

2-4-08
By Hope VandenAkker

The beats of our hearts were once the same.

Our palms carried thin silence.
We held our hands up together,
And our heart beats were the same.

Sound absorbed us and cradled us,
We nestled within the comforting womb;
Measures and music and melody,
And our heart beats were the same.

The waves crashed;
Although sandy beaches recorded our footsteps.
We felt invisible to everything,
Except a midnight sky and ocean air.
And on the verge of disappearing through a veil of reality,
Our heart beats were still the same.

Our hearts would beat faster as we would climb
The climatic height of metal tracks
Coming down we swore our hearts would leave us
And fly as high as our arms were stretched up
And as wide as our smiles lengthened,
Falling below pavement and people,
But still beating all the same.

And our hearts would slow,
With the discussion that 3 A.M. brought to us,
Easing down our bodies from the excitement of the day,
But never,
Coming
To a
Stop.

Women's Liberation: Movement

Women’s Liberation: Movement
By Hope VandenAkker

My feet are Barbie feet,
And although they do wander through a magical garden at times,
They do so without the aide of a tiara and stilettos.
Maybe they do slip into short dresses for bedtime,
And even shorter ones for the morning,
But they will not be found waltzing in a synthetic dream,
Through rooms of molded plastic.
Unlike Barbie, my feet can hold me up;
They can move without someone else’s permission.