The Killing

Originally Published April 28th, 2014

This poem was written by Esther Frantzich, a 14-year-old writer from Minneapolis, Minnesota, as part of a six-month independent writing project for which I was lucky enough to serve as her mentor. Esther created several other powerful pieces as part of her project, including a short story, an essay, and additional poems. Much of her work centered around the notion of uncertainty, and her intense experience over the last year during her mother's journey through breast cancer diagnosis and treatment with chemo and surgery. Esther has participated in workshops and retreats through Elephant Rock and will be attending the Madeline Island Writing Intensive for Young Women this July. 

The Killing
 
It was light brown, very beautiful
Not much bigger than a dime
A feathery little head and clear black eyes
Flitting about the kitchen
A small movement in an otherwise still room
I didn’t want to kill it
The word DON’T scratched
itself into the lining of my stomach
But I had promised I would
The last thing it probably saw was itself
In the underside of my sterling silver ring
I haven’t thought of it since

I want to know how others view the world
How to make Swedish pancakes like my mom
Who in the world Jon likes
What it would be like to be blind
What caused Ria’s break down
How many spiders exist
Why people keep time

I miss so many things, not all sweet
Like the hole in my wall
from when I freaked out in the rocking chair
The Florida house and family vacations
Chubby chub and a non-judgmental view of strangers
Easy friendships between guys and girls
The middle of my parents’ bed
Freedom

I am a hint of rainbow on a plain white wall
I am a typewriter catching sunlight and shadows
I am a crooked line of nail holes
Tonight I will dream of a hand resting alone
upon the blue green carpet of a classroom floor,
a band of lighter skin, indented marks
where a ring once was

I am unsure of many things, but this I know:
No matter how well I hide, if I can see you, you can see me