"rebirth of eve" & "moth girl dreaming" by Hannah Gumpert

rebirth of eve

Grow your own ribs this time.

Your heart isn’t meant to be caged by anything

but your own bones.

When your being is borne of Adam’s rib—

a broken piece of his skeleton lodged in your chest;

a jagged-edged shackle forever binding you,

body and soul,

to him—

how can you claim your place in this world?

But you are more than your story.

You are more than your boundaries.

You are 

more.

This time, build yourself a body

that suits your legacy.

With callused hands stained brown by mud,

forge yourself of soft river clay.

Create a weak, unsteady creature 

that will rise and grow,

that will solidify stronger than stone

and become something unbreakable.

Mold a being of swan down and titanium:

light and pure, 

full of freedom and joy and possibility,

but at the same time, if—

when—

the world tries to pin you down 

and keep you from flight,

you will remain

unstoppable,

unwavering,

indomitable.

Carve the calcium tumor 

that claims to be your creation

from yourself,

amputate it with your bare hands,

and when blood pools in the cavity left behind,

regrow ribs of steel

that will reflect the dull glint of your copper heart.

Grow your own ribs

and form your own body

and next time some god tries to place a piece

of somebody else

into the most sacred parts of you,

bare teeth of iron,

sharp as knives,

and fill your mouth 

with the taste of his blood.

On the eighth day of creation,

woman is reborn.

moth girl dreaming

Moth girl fluttering 

beneath porch light,

hoping this time,

the fluorescent glow stays trapped 

in her wings.

Moth girl flying

through moonless night,

wishing she hatched

a caterpillar and

feasted on fennel and thyme

instead of rotten food

and soured dreams.

Moth girl crawling

on damp soil,

wings brushing the ground,

watching all the others emerge

from their cocoons

bright and colorful

whereas she came out papery gray.

Wondering what life is like

as a butterfly.

Moth girl whispering

into a night that never answers,

begging to go through 

a second metamorphosis

and come out as something different.

Wonders if maybe day listens to prayers.

           Moth girl dreaming

all night long,

until the world is kissed by dawn

and she slinks into shadow,

curls her wings around herself

and falls into slumber—

because in sleep, 

maybe her dreams

can become reality.

Hannah Gumpert is a rising 10th grader, and admittedly spends way too much time absorbed in a book. When she isn’t reading, you can usually find her with her family, at a coffee shop with her friends, or writing and/or imagining her latest story, completely deaf to the world because she's living in another. She’s been published in WriteGirl journals and The New Courant, and has received silver, gold, and American Voices medals from the Scholastic Art and Writing awards. Hannah wants to be a writer when she grows up—but she's not going to wait around until then.