Only Seventeen


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The wind is howling through my bones
and all the while I cry for home
inside a body changing slow
until my leaves and branches grow,
to reach a greater kind of light
that will my inner flame ignite
My destiny to a fiery blaze
but until then, a sullen haze
surrounds my forced and fertile frame
connecting dots infused with shame.

For “youth” is a troubled word
with faults and flaws that sink the bird
from ever looking back again,
so from her nest she must ascend.
She sheds an unseen, silent tear
for the suffering endured last year
and all the years before that too
will linger on as heartbreaks do.

And yet she is free, free at last
and jubilantly deserts the past
for there are worlds and galaxies
for her to conquer, love, and see.
So many nights she dreamed of this
freedom at last, her true love’s kiss,

her golden moon amongst the stars
there is no better love than ours.

By and by the branches wind
and slither into her flagrant mind,
thus her bones become her fuel
to burn and slash without a rule.
As for a maiden fair and fierce,
there are a million walls to pierce,
And in her heart a bold desire
to keep on flying higher and higher…
-- Copyright Olivia Fleming --

Seventeen at last… There is a sort of beautiful reverence I hold for birthdays. All my life, everyone told me not to grow up, to enjoy my youth while I could, but I always saw being young as being vulnerable and incapable of the great ambitions I dreamed of even as a 7 year old. And ten years later I hold myself in wonderment that I ever made it this far, and the sheer fear that I still have so far left to go. I’m sure it will take me more than a month to remember to reply to the question “how old are you” with the numbers 1 and 7…

I truly do wish I had taken more time to be a child and play and run and watch TV all day and have utterly no responsibilities at all. Now that I am faced with a number of them, though I love everything I do, I dream of the cliche paradise that was once youth…

And yet, I am incredibly happy to be a young woman of seventeen in this wild and wonderful world; that “Dancing Queen” age of frivolity, beauty, and fun as has been fantasized by novels, romances, and songs for ages. I want to promise myself not only to love being my own age for once, but to have fun in it too. Many exciting things are happening this year for me, and I expect both 2016 and age 17 to be a spectacular year of growth, as I still have so many boundaries to break. I am very grateful I don’t have to do it alone, and will love sharing every minute with you all as well.

If you aren’t already, go ahead and follow me on Snapchat (Theindiegirl) Instagram (@theindiegirlblog) and Twitter (@TIGBlog) to follow all the festivities today and the rest of this weekend. From the bottom of my heart, I wish you all a wonderful Saturday and a beautiful night.


Olivia Fleming