Volume No. XVIII
Volume No. XVII
Volume No. XVI
Volume No. XV
Volume No. XIV
Volume No. XIII
Volume No. XII
Volume No. XI
Volume No. X
Volume No. IX
Volume No. VIII
Volume No. VII
Volume No. VI
Volume No. V
Volume No. IV
Volume No. III
Volume No. II
Volume No. I
Archives
Volume No. I
Volume No. II
Volume No. III
Volume No. IV
Volume No. V
Volume No. VI
Volume No. VII
Volume No. VIII
Volume No. IX
Volume No. X
Volume No. XI
Volume No. XII
Volume No. XIII
Volume No. XIV
Volume No. XV
Volume No. XVI
Volume No. XVII
Volume No. XVIII
I found a faded picture and barely recognized the girl Her head held high, eyes twinkling with certainty A ticket will be plucked from a barrel As it whirls to a stop on the school cafeteria stage The girl is not surprised when her name is announced To claim the prize she knew would be hers. I barely recognize the woman in the mirror Her face tense, her cheeks etched by the loss of loved ones Her sparkle dulled by disillusionment, wariness, weariness The towel drops to reveal a highway of scars, a roadmap of fear. At night she dares not dream of a prize, only survival And that she mourns most of all.
Sheree Kirby is the editor of the Survivor's Review
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