The Girl Who Had A Name by Alexa Seidel
Hugging herself in cinders That fell from the fire like stars from the sky Or snow from wintry clouds And graying her own hair with these ashes Who can be surprised that they all forgot Her real name? Was it Agatha or Gladiel Or Stella or something else? It can be Surmised that there was a name once at least Given by a mother and father but then discarded Like old shoes, unwanted and of no use Like dead mice and carved pumpkins in November No one went looking for it either There was no jeweled slipper that would Fit this name and anyway, why bother? She asks herself, when the hearth’s warmth Is kind and hides her hair and eyes and skin Under clinging cinders that have a soft touch Almost as if they care
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