“Something begins in order to end: an adventure doesn’t let itself be extended; it achieves significance only through its death. Towards this death, which may also be my own, I am drawn irrevocably. Each moment appears only to bring on the moments after. To each moment I cling with all my heart: I know that it is unique, irreplaceable - and yet I would not lift a finger to prevent it from being annihilated.” © Jean-Paul Sartre, Nausea
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10.13.2005
The White Dress
My Dearest Taylor,
I need a new dress
White and more beautiful
than any of my Sunday’s bests.
I want it long and flowing
down to my ankles but never reaching
the floor—I don’t want to drag it
down the aisle as I walk.
It should be simple.
Unembellished by lace, pearls or embroidery—
after all, there would be no room for luxuries
after I take my vows.
I want a cord with three knots
Tied snug around the waist---
not to flatter my figure,
but to remind me to remain faithful and submissive
to my divine spouse.
I’ll wear a matching wimple
To catch the sweat from my brows
as I go on my knees dispensing my sacred duties
from everyday forth.
This is what I’ll wear on that joyous day,
not a corset and a heavily-beaded brocade.
You’ve always known I was destined for servitude,
and not a life playing wife to someone who makes suits.
Anne Stephanie Cruz
10.13.05
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