I didn’t plan this to happen. I didn’t sit down to write specifically for OSI today. I usually write haiku for the prompts. I am behind. Summer came to a crashing halt. It’s been a month since I last posted as I get all caught up in the beginning of school, the beginning of mentoring two library media specialists, and trying to ignore the already looming cloud of budget cuts for the 2011-2012 school year (ten-twenty million for my district)
My writing group established the practice of sending out our writing two weeks in advance for the monthly meeting. We meet this Wednesday. I will send my today. My work in progress is written as a series of poems to tell the tale. So today I have been working on that project, not thinking of “passing”.
Yet, it appeared. And while this is a draft and not polished I felt moved to share it on my blog today:
Principal excuses me
parents and police officer remain
return to the classroom
Must be recess
So I go out the door to find my class
I notice a group of girls huddled together
They are laughing, passing something white back and forth
I hear their shrieking
Euthanize, what kind of word is that
Folded with care and love
See! She is his girlfriend
I told you. I told you so.
Bet that’s why she had to go to the principal’s office.
She was there that night
I march over
To the pack of girls who are not my friends
Give me the poem back!
It’s not yours.
They laugh, pass it around again
Sweat gathers on my brow
for the third time today
I lunge for the note.
My heart rips apart
I hold only the bottom part of the torn page
Tears well up
Please give it back
The girls run away
despair fills me
as they hand the poem to the duty.
The recess bell rings
But not to class.
The passing of a note. The passing of a childhood friend. Caught in a lie. Despair fills Darrah, my character. For more on passing, please visit One Single Impression.