What happened? [Poem]

This November Women’s Web, with JustBooks, is running Book Talk, a writing theme where you get to write (read) about books that inspire us. 

For November, our writing cue was: “Ask the books that I read why I changed. Ask the authors dead and alive who communicated with me and gave me the courage to be myself.” – from My Story by Kamala Das. Our first winning entry is by Fiona Kezia Winston.

What happened?

I changed.

I grew wings.

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I caught dreams.

I clung to them for dear life.

On the edge of the same cliff,

That we stood upon with amateur eyes and zero flight,

I promised that I’d be your Dedalaus,

I’d stitch you wings,

Wax ’em up,

And let you fly,

By my side.

But I,

Became the Icarus minus the fall.

Nearer, faster,

My wax dripped on,

Unaware that my wings were made of,

Fairy sparkles and stardust,

Bound with unicorn blood and my sweat,

I flew on.

Whilst you, paved your way with grace and slowness,

And waited for my fall.

I still wear masks that obscure my face,

But I’m not the Icarus who fell.

I’m the Icarus who foresaw and braved a fall,

I’m the Icarus with burning masks of my own facets.

But hey!

I’m still candy crush and sugar plums inside,

I’m the very same girl who googles her name,

To check if she’s famous yet,

Every single night.

I’m the very same girl who can’t travel,

Without a cellphone torch at night,

I still get mightily scared of collective nocturnal insects,

Singing coyly, their mating calls,

I still sleep under duvets,

Only because I think that’d hide my sleeping self,

From the monster under my bed.

My eyes, still glow with that childish light, that shone for you,

First,

When you took me to the forest glades,

And showed me the fireflies.

But brighter still,

Shines this dream..

This love..

A proudly ambitious dream-love..

What do you call love that asks to be reminisced and begs to be unfettered from wiry walls of complacent oblivion?

Love that chains you to your dreams and pushes you in the wildest seas?

That wicked love,

That puts passion to shame.

Remember “Crush”?

You said it was called a crush for a reason.

Well, this love,

Squashes this word “Crush”, till it is such a putty plaything in my moulding hands,

Bites at the grid, to strengthen teeth,

Sharpen claws,

Wakes you up from those Boogey dreams at night,

To only awaken you to scarier dreams that you chose to breed,

Dared to move,

That love,

That crushes your soul with unbridled passion and lights your stove with the ignition of your dreams,

That love,

Caught me naked and unashamedly unapologetically,

Willing,

To skinny dip,

From the top of the cliff you stand now.

To the very bottom of that raging sea called life.

I knew.

I swear I knew I’d brave,

Another fall.

I’m the Icarus who never falls, you see.

And so that Love,

Shackled my naked state,

Bound me and imprisoned my everything,

Made me sign a bond with blood,

And vowed to take me,

Accomplice.

The prize

Fiona wins a Rs.500 voucher for this entry, from JustBooks, India’s First & Largest Community Library Chain. 

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