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Coming of Age, a poem by Megan Bell


Coming of Age


In the end, mother,


I crawled out of your door like I crawled out of your womb

with a fire in my belly; hungry, angry, alone.

Displaced, desperate for the unknown.

Wailing into the morning light, I flailed, 

then, I didn’t.

Suckling on the sun, I looked at the world with kitten eyes. 

Then, I made the world look back at me.


On your front porch, 

on a county road in Indiana, 

on God's command. 

I made my way out of 

my Coming of Age 

with the past in my pocket 

and 

now in my hand. 


A brave child. I was eighteen. 



Megan Bell is privileged to have served Fort Wayne, Indiana as a reference librarian for the past decade. When she is not working, she spends time with her husband and two children. They enjoy the outdoors – riding bikes, hiking, and swimming. She digs all 70s singer/songwriter music, any cat she meets, and she saves all her extra pennies for travel.