26 May 2007

21 May Writing Prompt


I drew a roadmap for peace
complete with oceans and valleys,
mountains and streams,
even pine trees in miniature,
their needles no larger than a rosemary leaf.
I made a house for me,
well-built, wearing modest grey-blue,
but inside things turned--
the way things always do--
and the roadmap for peace
struck a blow.
First it was the cat,
I named him Ink because
he rubbed himself against me
in long, fluid strokes.
When I bent to pet him
he purred and seemed content--
until I turned my back--
and then he pounced on the bread dough,
he scared away the birds,
and when I went to erase him
he nearly flew across the room
where he landed, claws first, upon my back.
And then there were the books
of every shape and size,
the books I tried endlessly to organize,
but every time I had a method, a plan that seemed just right,
a little voice would whisper yet another way to categorize,
until it was books, books everywhere:
they scattered in piles across the floor,
they took over the kitchen table,
they wound around corners and into my bed.
I decided I could do without books
and I burned a beautiful fire,
but all those books came back as words
that flicker through my mind,
and I find myself reciting whole passages
when I've had a little wine.
But the thing that really ruined
my roadmap for peace
was the thing I never could find,
it wasn't something I put on the map,
it was nothing I could see,
but it lurked in every corner
desperately hungry for me.
I tried my best to avoid it,
I plugged my ears
and closed my eyes,
I tiptoed even in the daytime
and tried to make no sound at all,
but eventually it found me--
the way it always does--
when I forgot to watch for it
and smiled at a rose.
It sunk it's teeth in slowly
so I scarcely felt the pain,
by the time I knew it had me
there was no escape.
That thing, it fed upon me
until I finally gave up,
and I admit I begged it to finish me
as quickly as it could,
but it dropped me quick from its drooling jaws
and left me broken on the ground.
And now I'm re-drawing
a roadmap for peace,
maybe this time I'll get it just right,
because when the dark thing
makes its way onto my map--
the way it always does--
it will show no mercy to me
and have no regard for love,
and I will have to fight it,
human against beast,
and I know the odds are not on my side,
but this latest roadmap is full of hope
and hope can turn the tide.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I tried to comment on this once before and lost it. Lovely, as usual. The extended metaphor works. I wonder if it could be "mapped" a bit more tightly, so that under the larger topic, the literal map is clear. Just a thought.
Miss you. Let's plan a BBQ soon. The weather is great for it, no? :)