I was a mountain girl, by Sam Marie
"I was a mountain girl; my body was tall. I grew up in the grasslands, stretchin g towards the sky and reaching for my dreams. I made wishes on weeds and cut paper wings to fly to the sky. We built houses from broken tree trunks and fallen leaves, our hands working together to fix what had long been destroyed. Our aspirations flew away with the wind, changing at the speed of the moving sun. My sisters wanted to be princesses, ballerinas, astronauts, teachers. I wanted to be the queen of the forest, air that danced with the wind, a bird with unwavering wings, soil that understood the mysteries of the world. We grew taller, and their dreams peeled away with aging skin and the appliance of pink blush. I refused to let go of my fairytale days and my mind did not grow as my legs did. My soul stayed too young, leaving my mind free to dream but not free enough, for the truly free are wise enough to understand that nobody can be young forever. I was a mountain girl; my heart was mad...