Skip to main content

The Protagonist

She was more of an idea
Than a person, yet
Her arms reached through
The wrinkled pages
As I was planning
Her defenestration.

“Don't,” she said, holding
My hand steady.
Her typical loquaciousness
Gone in a moment - being
At the rim does that.
Her desperate idea-fingers
Grasping, trying to stop
The Dusk.

I brooded over her
Resistance. This story
Would be knee-deep
In hardship, in never-before-felt
Pain. How could I put her
In the middle of this
Vast dystopian wastebasket
And hope she clamors
Out?

Perhaps I could give her
A companion, a slobber-filled
Canine or a not-so-kindred
Spirit?

I could fill her days
With synchronicity, with a
This-leads-to-that purpose, to fight through
The drawl and the drudge,
The beginning.

In this oneiric world,
More nightmarish than
The last, she would find
Herself at the cusp of
Her Self.

First demure, red lips
Parting only for candy-laced words,
And then later, only
To respect a humble god or command
Her hunger-ridden army
To live.

Yes, I see the smoke
At the perimeter now.
Go, my Dear, go see
Who you are.

--

Mad Words List 5.15.18

Defenestration
Loquacious
Kindred
Synchronicity
Oneiric
Smoke
Perimeter
Rim
Cusp
Demure
Red
Slobber
Dusk
Brood
Vast

--

As an aspiring author and poet, I often devise characters I'm unsure about. I also become conflicted with creating an environment for my characters that is set up to test them, even when I know it is necessary in order to help them grow and change and learn about life. Much like a parent who questions bringing a child into a world where school shootings or disaster happens every day, as an author I question why I'm creating this character, why am I setting them up to fail or to learn? And just like a parent, I have to see the good that comes from being alive, from growing, from learning despite all the struggle and pain. I also have to determine how best to guide them and what messages I want to not only teach them, but readers as well. Through fiction, we find examples on how best to live life. And sometimes giving a life a chance can lead to great things, even your own life.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Bonus Poem: Look Up!

Looking down, I read the priceless pages, Someone else, sweetly, precisely, Had written their drinkable life on. And I drank in the appreciation Of her words, one sentence at a time, A good, fresh white. Sensational, the clouds were Pouring in, filling my cup,  Easing in, with a soft voice that said, "Look up!" My eyes glanced, only peeking At first, toward the sky. Those rain-bringers harnessing My irises with glee. And as if it had been there All along, the whole long while, A sparrow drifted into the Watercolor before me, soaring. It glided on the currents That were my own world, too. And we shared the view, Him up there, I, eyes lifting further now. And then the wind found itself Playing in the cottonwood's hair. And I smiled, thinking About how good it probably felt, Those wind-fingers, sifting through. 

I Don't Know How To Be An Ocean, She Said

"I don’t know how to be an ocean,” she said. To become an ocean, Don't drown in yourself. Reflect the sky, as above. Feel the pitch black of night And the torches of stars, the only guides Until morning. Welcome those who would tread, And the urchins, and feel the trash islands Press you down. Press back, harder. Know the temporary. Be a receiver of boats, of Ships passing in the night. Don't let high tide Have any more strength than low tide. It's all part of the process. When the rage surges through your waves, Know the stillness that once caught you Breathless at the shore. “I don’t know how to be an ocean,” she said. Don’t hold back. Overflow, and Recede when you’re ready. But go ahead, Taste saline. And feel the wind against your back. Know you can be destructive, a force of unpredictability, And also the peace someone else is looking for. Do you feel your depth? There are pieces of you, so below, no one has ever seen, even