Book of Ghosts
By Abigail Zajac, 19, Missouri
The book of change watches me rage as its pages turn of their own accord
like a scornful clock endlessly ticking,
sending me to the ground in a freefall of feeling.
Desperately I reach for who I used to be,
but that was chapters ago.
The book chides me:
Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to chase the ghosts of previous pages?
All shades of cream, they flick through my vision
reminding me of what I had to love and leave.
The pages fall with a resounding finality.
Heat fills my face from the desire to return
and gallivant around in the ink of that gleeful girl.
She wasn’t afraid to write her heart all over the page.
She didn’t yet know the regret
of living with secrets.
I am all shades of gray, living and bleeding lines of shame.
Hesitant to turn any page, to make any moves,
for fear the wrong words will come through.
So I spend my days on the page, dancing with the ghosts–
the versions of myself I love the most.
This was based on a writing prompt I did. I put together a list of words and incorporated them into a poem. This poem is about a typical subject in my writings. I am obsessed with the idea of change, specifically how people change over their lifetime in a way that cannot be helped or stopped.
Twitter: @AbigailZajac
