She wears an ornate, pearlescent, white gown,

Her hair swept up with a tiara as her crown.

"So pretty in white!" The women all murmur.

I look at the reflection in my mirror.

Cold fingers of dread clasp around my heart,

My calm resolve begins to fall apart.

I hear the ominous clang of an iron door closing,

The sound of chains rattling are all too menacing.

I cannot breathe - my throat is constricting.

I feel weak at the knees - my legs are quivering.

Cold beads of sweat trickle down my face,

While sweaty palms dampen the lace.

In the distance, I hear the wedding march begin,

My fright and flight response kicks in.

"It's time to go," my father pipes up.

Startled, I jump and knock over a cup.

I look out the window and the freedom beyond,

I yearn for the hills, I wish to be gone.

I pick up my skirts and begin to run,

Out of the church and into the sun.

Learn more about this author, Shen-Li Lee.
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