The Climb



Climbing up a mountain, Pulling yourself higher and higher.  Out of the pit of misery. Things seem to look brighter. Grass is growing, Birds are singing, And the sun emerges from the clouds. Then you start to slip, To lose your grasp, And down you fall. Not quite to the bottom, Just teetering on a ledge, Could you go over at any moment

Have you the strength to climb again? The pain of your cut soul Burns like a fire, The anger, hurt and frustration Come flooding back into your mind. The fight for survival starts again. Overcome the fear, Search for the holds, Rely on the support from before. I know it’s going to be difficult, But you did it once, You can do it again. Remember, you’re not the only one – Out there are other climbers Fighting their own battles, Searching their own soul And conquering their own mountains.

Barbie Doll

By Marge Piercy 
  This girlchild was born as usual and presented dolls that did pee-pee and miniature GE stoves and irons and wee lipsticks the color of cherry candy.
Then in the magic of puberty, a classmate said: You have a great big nose and fat legs. … She was healthy, tested intelligent, possessed strong arms and back, abundant sexual drive and manual dexterity. She went to and fro apologizing.
 Everyone saw a fat nose on thick legs. She was advised to play coy, exhorted to come on hearty, exercise, diet, smile and wheedle.
Her good nature wore out like a fan belt. So she cut off her nose and her legs and offered them up.
In the casket displayed on satin she lay with the undertaker’s cosmetics painted on, a turned-up putty nose, dressed in a pink and white nightie.
Doesn’t she look pretty? everyone said. Consummation at last.
To every woman a happy ending.