A Story for The Unseen Ones

A desperate woman runs to the wild & meets a man...

But wait—exciting news first!

Have you been thinking of trying out a paid membership to The Second Cup? Have you been wanting a “Poetry is for Rebels” sweatshirt but keep forgetting to go through all those steps of finding your credit card and going to the Shop and clicking ORDER?

Well now is your time to shine and get EVERYTHING YOU WANT in one giant swoop.

August is The Second Cup’s one-year anniversary on Substack (woot!) and to celebrate, I’m going to send a sweatshirt to anyone who upgrades to “paid” for the rest of this month (as long as supplies last!). EEK! Can’t wait for you to join us.

[Check out all 3 colors below—I’ll try to send you the color/size you want, depending on what is still in stock 👇🏻]

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A Story for the Unseen Ones

When her lungs were full of dust and she felt another uprising of nausea, she collapsed beside a spring of water and took little sips from the cup of her hands. It trickled down her chin and onto her clothes but it didn’t matter; her face was already soaked with tears and every fabric clung to her skin, wet and chafing from the exertion.

She needed to gather her strength. She had a long way to go, and she didn’t want to be caught out here alone when the sun started to go down. And yet—she could hardly stand. Between the running and the vomiting and the thick despair that rose in waves from her gut, she only wanted to lie down, to be tended to and comforted with reassuring words. That wasn’t for her, though. Nobody was coming, and she knew it.

She pictured what was probably happening at home right then: The husband and wife would be sitting on the bed. She would be leaning against him and weeping. And he—the man whose baby was forming inside her body at this very moment—he was stroking that other woman’s hair, and holding her so close that she could hear the quiet shooshes reverberating inside the walls of his chest.

A fresh onslaught of tears came, and she was surprised to find that it wasn’t because she was scared or overwhelmed; it wasn’t even because she was pregnant with a man who didn’t love her. No. She was crying because there was no one that would hold her like that. There was no one else who saw or understood her impossible situation. There was no one who recognized the nature of that pain in her chest; she was utterly alone.

Suddenly, the sun cooled and went dark. She looked up, expecting to see a large cloud passing overhead. What she saw instead was a man standing over her…