Saturday’s Story

I met her once, it was a summer day, humid and hot outside. Her skin was sizzled under the heat prevailed. The ground was scorching under her bare feet. I tried to avoid going outside as much as possible because of the humidity and the heat. Besides there are times when I’m forced to go out with my family; other than that I never left the house. Of course there were occasions I willingly went outside.

When I first met her, she was melancholic, tired and didn’t want to do anything other than sleep. She felt miserable, so I decided to help her out and push her to write poems and short stories. She would use metaphors hoping no one would understand what she is trying to relate to in reality. Poems about loneliness and sadness. Her mom knew she wrote poems from time to time, but she never read them assuming that she was just playing around; doing nothing; as usual.

Once she read her favorite poem she’ve written.

“He sat on an antique chair
Near the fire place
He dipped feather pens
In ink
Seeping into pages
Hundreds of pages
It’s been ages
Since he left that chair
Since he’s been out
In fresh air
It’s not like you care
But you’d stare
Through the window
He’d still be there
You wondered what he wrote
You wanted to knock on his door
You wanted to know more”
After getting into depth of poetry; she decided to create a social media to display her poetry. She also wanted to read other writer’s poetry to inspire and to be inspired. Without inspiration, most songs won’t exist; because a lot of them are similar to each other.

Her mom would slightly knock on her door and in her sweet little voice say, “Dinner’s ready,” and walk away.

She was always jealous of her mom. It infuriated her when she told her stories about her past; how she was simply adored and sublimely beautiful; whilst being superbly intelligent. She wanted to be like her so she would admire her; but she seldom did. I’m assuming her mind set is to act unsatisfied so she can accomplish more to redeem herself worth appreciating. She had such high standards for her.

When she got out of her slump; thoughts accumulated in her mind and she had this concept; which first came from the headache she had. So she put her thoughts together and wrote a poem.

“As I feel my head throb
I imagine everything changing
The world spinning
Perception of time
The clouds floating afar
The sun was setting
Now it’s time to view a star”

Her poem was fairly short; which didn’t satisfy her much. She wanted something more intense; meaning laced into every word. But alas; every time she attempted to conjure up a concept; it never matched what it was in her mind to paper. She kept the poem anyways and it was sort of cute,  I suppose.

I didn’t stop monitoring her,  even though she sometimes doubted herself. She continued doing what seemed the  best; growing her imagination and building strongly her future as a writer and poet.  That’s what makes her more human and optimist. She became someone with determination and willingness to take in the good with the bad with an open mind.  She could catch the wonders in life and things she couldn’t catch with a closed mind.

Saida seddik

October 22 2016

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