The Pure Maiden

The Pure Maiden

Stolen years
believing that the loss alone
somehow made me less.
Kept clean, untouched.
Never again in my little girl head
could I be good, be pure, wear white.
Mother Mary, full of grace,
bow your head, and pray.

Now we sell our virginity to pay
for graduate school, a fancy car,
perhaps a diamond ring.
In ignorance, sold like a whore,
to the highest bidder
so the world can continue to believe
that we are nothing.

Angela Minard 2008©