Call it an act of defiance against the self, but not self-inflicted more like by something opposite to a God. Darkness embezzled my words yet to be born. Each letter was stuck in no man’s land, and I was left staring at this sheet of blank paper. Just white space, and those blue lines blurred by my teardrop. My words could have been strung together like my her pearl necklace. She believed her prized possession had been stolen, and more important than my stolen voice, but nonetheless this still became a search and rescue. Really it should have been me rescued because that same night her necklace was found, she witnessed me staring yet again at this sheet of blank paper. She accused me of writer’s block. This term is almost an injustice just like when the toddler’s (who lives across the street) toy blocks are left scattered, and useless.
That toddler told me what she wanted to be when she grows up. She said simply, a princess, so I then picked up her blocks, and I created a castle for her. She asked me in return, and I replied: “I have grown up to be a poet.” Then I quickly made a silent makeshift plea: Depression, don’t make it so that I will not write. That was like when she took one block from the bottom of the castle. The rest of the blocks came crashing down with a thump, and then were scattered once again.
I was like that castle broken apart. I was free falling into a trap unlike a trap door in the dungeon because that has a definite bottom. I wanted to avoid thinking of rock bottom yet pondered: How to get myself out of this state of being? I was already out. That made me even more scared. Yes, I was scared of the dark like that toddler, and even my night light wobbled. I wanted to cut this darkness with a sword so I polished hers that was forgotten, rusted, and antique left in her garage. It became so clean that it was gleaming, and I then saw my sorrowful reflection, but this sword was useless to fight against the intangible. Instead, all there was left to do was to write.
Sophia Falco is a faithful poet since she finds poetry essential to her understanding of the universe. She is the author of Farewell Clay Dove (UnCollected Press, 2021). In addition, she is the author of her award-winning chapbook: The Immortal Sunflower (UnCollected Press, 2019), the winner of the Mirabai Prize for Poetry, and was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. Furthermore, Falco graduated magna cum laude along with the highest honors in the Literature Department at The University of California, Santa Cruz. Her Bachelor of Arts degree is in intensive literature with a creative writing concentration in poetry. She loves to take long walks on the beach to be in the presence of the water, and to witness the ocean’s vastness, blueness, and beauty.