The Promise

there was never a dream for me

THE PROMISE 

Photo by Jelleke Vanooteghem on Unsplash

There’s no room
In the ashtray
As I smoke my last cigarette
Banishing thoughts of the inevitable
With a final jolt of nicotine. 

I check my soul
Making sure it is still there
Swearing on my father’s grave
Biting the head off of destiny
Only to spit it out.

I am the dream child of immigrants
Tailored for success in the New World
Overcoming poverty and filth
To shine like the great lady, Liberty.

I lift my skirt as a sign of freedom
Baring my breasts
Wearing the flag of my gender
I toss back my fiery red hair.

I draw a cross with the ashes
Commemorating the crucifixion
Smearing them on my forehead
Like a penitent. 

Still a stranger
The promise becomes female
My ancestors’ word is broken
There was never a dream for me.
© 2026 Stephanie M. Vargo