Finally, I’m lost
Sinking, rising, and falling
In the vast deep blue
About the Creator
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More stories from Rochelle Harper and writers in Poets and other communities.
My Pro-life Mother, Her Dog and their Abortion
In light of the fall of Roe V. Wade, which we can only hope is a brief tangent into fascism, I am reminded of my upbringing. My family lived in the deep South, we were raised hard-right Republicans, and my mother in particular was viciously, unyieldingly pro-life. She raised us on all the anti-choice rhetoric. Taught my brothers and I that life begins at conception and that there is no greater sin than to kill what hasn't even been born. That women who got pregnant needed to take responsibility for their actions and bear the child to term. That pregnancy was a natural part of life, and complications rare. That the very worst and most unforgivable abortions were in the third-term, which ripped apart babies that were just weeks or even days from being born.
By Rochelle Harper4 years ago in Confessions
Trouble at the Tea Leafing Café
The rain had started right around the time that Annie was buttering her second thick slice of homemade toast for breakfast, and hadn’t paused since. Not that anyone could tell. The windows of the café were fogged over, and with every seat filled with happy customers munching on fresh baked pastries or steaming bowls of the delicious soup of the day, it was hardly surprising. Annie looked around the room, finally taking a moment to breathe after the lunch time rush. Her old life already felt like a bad memory, a part of her history, always, but just that. History.
By Hannah Moore6 days ago in Fiction
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