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Page 14 The Girl continued from page 13 blue-eyed girl was not with her, and she ran off through the trees, dancing with the wind to imaginary music. She flew in circles through the twisted branches and danced around the trunks, chasing her own broken shadow. Occasionally, she stopped to pick an especially lovely, lonely flower to wear in her hair. As Rega stopped under a gigantic oak tree to rest, she heard her name whispered on the wind. She called with a new joy to the girl, “I am over here. Come join me!” But the calling wind stifled her joy as Rega reaUzed it was not the girl at all. She leaned against the trunk of the oak and closed her eyes, a tear running down her cheek. Several hours later, Rega awak ened under a starry night, not at all sure where she was. But the grand, old oak tree had lowered his gnarled branches around her, keeping her safe from the unknown night. She kissed the tree, and whispered that she must go home. Her family was sure to be back, her mother worried. He reluctantly lifted his branches to release her, and she knew he would wait for her return another day. LAMBDA Poetry waterfall, found her book and shoes in the moss, and ran toward home. Rega’s mother did not scold her when she came running in the door, al ready apologizing. She could see Rega’s anguish at causing trouble, and she was not too worried, anyway. Rega was of ten caught up in her own world, forget ting the real one. Her mother could tell by the wind blown look of Rega’s clothes and the liveliness in her eyes that her day had been splendid. But she did not ask about Rega’s adventures, knowing they belonged only to her daughter. Instead, she gave Rega a hug and handed her a plate with her dinner. Rega slipped into a chair, her stomach grumbling intensely. Her mother walked slowly out of the kitchen toward her bedroom, leaving Rega to eat her dinner alone in the di minishing night. Waking a few hours before dawn, Rega’s mother slipped out of the bed to check on her daughter. Opening the door, she saw outlined by starlight a limp shape buried beneath several blan kets. Uncovering her sleeping child’s smooth, relaxed face, she glanced out of the window to the fading stars. Her mother wondered if even they knew her daughter’s universe. Nov. '91 to The never-met by Cordelia Chenault a fleeting glimpse of kinky Raven-Black furtive, feeling the pounding rush as i glance into your ddughter s room to see you, as i pass by You i cannot meet face to face * » i primped today, just in case dressed like a “real”girl even with my jeans and v-neck black button down a magnetic strut adorned in retro, yet subtle smiling a stranger s brief hello before i shyly focus on the street s cement and go on my own way just another student. You, the token-bearer to eyes i know so well green or gold, just a hint of mascara silently piercing the chaos, crinkling my eyelids with an unyielding gaze of love, or pain Poem ^ by Kurt Davies i. wlU Utf^. twtM> A*HMieL itUa- ojcd itc- You don’t know me from Eve. Me. who traces Your Contours and Curls in another s face. Angels surround me But do they see There to protect me But can they feel Tell me not to worry Everything will be okay But they aren’t living through my hell They may surround me But I do not feel them See them cftea^ c/U, (mAc eUfccit eur tYic tMtfi dttcuf.. HAc imfUACoMc (Ac cducwcuwc ic AUtifU*f> (cc ftcuunftU to- cUk^." StcfAcH^ ’’Vi^AUn^ ^ ficccc ic UAc -fkKKcfcn, ^UAlcxf, Hear them t I do not know them And they know me not So they cannot help me UhHl they have experienced my pain \ i 1 1 S \ 1 f 1 Agony • \IA MICHAEL DAVID LOVEN, Ph.D. Suffering i 1 Licensed Psychologist Torment Only then will I know That they are there JL 1 i ! j Phone: (919) 493-6329 Fax: (919) 493-9358 And whether they care Or not j 800 Eastowne Dr, #201 I Chapel Hill, NC 27514 L,. —
Lambda (Carolina Gay and Lesbian Association, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill)
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Nov. 1, 1997, edition 1
14
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