Oct. 20th, 2012

Day 20

Oct. 20th, 2012 05:00 pm
megwrites: A pair of brown glasses on a worn wooden table with a shadowed white wall in the background. (glasses)
Day 20: Write a narrative poem detailing a specific childhood memory.

The one and only time anyone got in trouble
for calling me a "fatso", it was third grade,
I had just begun to wear perpetual insecurity
like a winter coat, to understand that I took up
excessive and unwanted space with my body.
A blonde-blue eyed boy smirked,
said the word and then our teacher, our
thin and lovely teacher
took us into the hall, bent down to his level with
a soft frown, put a soft hand on his shoulder
and with a voice even soft said, "Why would you
say that? Megan thought you were friends."
Enemies that we were, we both exchanged
a mutual, momentary question in our eyes with
each other of, "Is she serious? Does she not know how this works?"
We weren't friends, never would be
Still, she looked at him so sweetly and said,
"Apologize and shake hands."
I looked up at her and suddenly a hundred mile distance
grew between me and my favorite teacher
because I didn't want an apology. Didn't even want revenge.
I wanted her to take away his power
to make that word hurt, and I realized that
she couldn't. She wouldn't.
I realized I'd be shaking hands with people
who hurled insults at me for the rest of my life.

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