The Whipping Girl

The yells of rage
Echo in the background.
She’s determined not to cry
Though her wrists and ankles are bound.
She knew her place
In the whole elaborate plan.
Be the passageway for all others–
The ultimate sacrificial lamb.

The shredding of cloth:
Tattered, old cotton,
Peels away, baring her back.
She senses the coming of something rotten.
She knows her role
In the expanse of life.
Be the happiness of others
While carrying their pain and strife.

The crackle of the whip:
Drenched, dripping wet,
Breaks the surface of her skin.
Her duty she has met.
She has fulfilled her fate
In the lot of the world.
An example of Freedom’s price–
The master’s whipping girl.

©
2001
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Poet, short story writer, and aspiring novelist. This blog details my writing journey and everything in between: supporting other writers, doing a feature column and serving as editor-in-chief for All Authors Magazine Online.

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