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Essays and Poetry by Barbara Powell

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Month: August 2019

Posted on August 14, 2019

Proverbial Patriarchy of Parochial School

I am frozen in the back pressing my fingertips hard against the orange plastic of the chair as I sit on my hands, the buzzing white lights overhead dress the…

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Posted on August 8, 2019August 8, 2019

The Story is written through my Mother’s hands

I once thought: my hands were my mother’s. Upon further inspection I realized my knuckles and the grasping toward more was my father’s.   I once thought my smile was…

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Posted on August 2, 2019August 2, 2019

A New Chapter

I wonder where my head went. Off it fell rolling and bumping away in the dust that was once my home.   I wonder where my thoughts have gone: they…

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