6. The Path is Made by Walking

[gunwithoutmusic]

She fed it every day—
the monster in the garden—
with Matchbox cars
and figurines, or
whatever useless brick-a-brack
had invaded her home that week.

She had to be careful—
keep them in the circle
she had worn around the Thing,
her anxious steps
contorting the too-tall grass,

shattering its walls and
forcing it into submission before
killing every blade and
letting the red clay take over.

She gently buried—
day after day—
every piece of them
into the too-tall grass,
mislaid reverence of the monster
that she would never see
and would never not see.

Comments

[erulissedances]

reverence of the monster
that she would never see
and would never not see

Oh yes, haven't we all experienced that at one time or another in childhood (or, in some cases, as adults).

- Erulisse (one L)

[gunwithoutmusic]

I used to have a terrifying recurring nightmare when I was a child of a monster (or something) stalking me through my house. I only ever saw it as a black blue and only for a moment, but I would always feel it breathing on the back of my neck right before I woke up. Your comment brought that to mind, so I thought I'd share.

Thanks as always for reading and sharing your thoughts!

[mollywheezy]

I love the image of a child feeding the monster. Great job!

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you :)

[halfshellvenus]

I love the ideas and imagery in here. LOVE. It's so evocative!

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you! <3

[reidharriscooper]

I hope for her sake, the monster doesn't pull itself back up and chase her down some city streets. With one arm of cars and another of barbies.

[gunwithoutmusic]

Lol I can't even begin to describe how much I love this image.

[roina_arwen]

Definitely need to keep the sacred circle unbroken if you want to keep the monster at bay (or at least amused by all the toys and bric-a-brac)!

[gunwithoutmusic]

:D Thanks for reading!

[static_abyss]

This poem made me think a lot, in a good way. It reminded me of a book I read by Benjamin Allire Saenz called Last Night I Sang to the Monster. Except there the monster was depression and addiction. But it was all I could think of when reading your poem.

[gunwithoutmusic]

In this one, I'm imagining the monster as grief, so not too far off from what you're thinking about. That book sounds really interesting; I may add it to my list. :)

[tamara_in_jakarta]

I love this

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you!

[muchtooarrogant]

It's the wrong mood for your piece, but I chuckled at the idea of feeding a monster matchbox cars.

Dan

[gunwithoutmusic]

I honestly love that some people are reading this with a much more positive mood than I intended it. Another comment upstream put this idea in my head of a toy car/Barbie-armed monster and I enjoyed that quite a bit. :)

[fausts_dream]

This is very, very cool. The little ceremony, perfect.

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you :)

[swirlsofpurple]

Absolutely adore the concept of this, intriguing and brilliant

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you so much :)

[murielle]

"...the monster
that she would never see
and would never not see."

And isn't that the truth.

We feed them and we tend them, we can't see them but they can never be unseen.

Great and terrifying work, S. Bravo! 👏👏👏

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you so much!! <3

[inkstainedfingertips]

I enjoyed the imagery and the almost childlike sense of wonder in the tone of this piece.

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you :)

[rayaso]

This was so wonderful and evocative. I loved the monster!

[gunwithoutmusic]

Thank you ;)