It is the first day of NaPoWriMo, welcome world. We are enlisted on the napowrimo site and ready to go:
I have just finished reading Margaret Atwood’s novel Cat’s Eye for about the third time. I still find it an unnerving experience. I wanted to write a poem about my equivalent to a marble which holds ‘my life entire’, but as I don’t have such an item….kinda like an emotional horcrux, if you’re into your Harry Potter….I just choose something a bit random.
I burn letters, but it is a smoky business.
The match flares and goes out, the paper catches
and subsides, words cling to their handwritten
life stubbornly. I persist, till the curling
black corners shrink into the page’s body
and its entirety becomes ash. I am thirteen;
believe if you burn something it is less likely
to come back, it destroys it more completely.
I expected it to satisfy the urge to get rid,
to purge the soul. The paper had preserved
that which was treasured and now is obsolete
and it seemed it would mean more than the click of delete.
But the smoke strings my eyes, the air is cold.
It is furtive and lonely, and I don’t own a lighter.