“Yeah,”said Topping, “I think
it's great you have gotten into this spoken word thing. It's so
cool.”
Claire blushed, but not for long as
her mind refocused on memorizing her words.
Ned sat beside Claire, and Bartholomew
settled into a seat behind Ned and put his hand reassuringly on
Claire's shoulder. Claire didn't acknowledge the support but kept
rehearsing silently.
The theater was packed. Except for a
handful of performance veterans and a few parents, it was wall to
wall young people. Busy voices buzzed as the vibe of good energy and
hormones pushed to the ceiling. The room darkened, the crowd hushed
only slightly and a middle-aged Latina woman walked to the mic.
“Welcome to Slam104!” A cheer
went up from the crowd. The woman on stage waved at people in the
crowd she knew and waited for the cheer to come down. “I am
'Rissa...” another cheer, “and I want to thank you all for
coming out tonight to help us celebrate the power of our voices.”
Another cheer went up from the frothing rolling and boiling sea of
youth. “Tonight we have some amazing talent lined up for you.
Some are veterans, some have been performing for a short while and
some will perform for the first time. At Slam104 we work to bring a
voice to those who often don't have one and to those who need one.
If you are interested in becoming a part of our community, you can
talk with me afterward or talk with Tony Curtis. Tony, stand up.”
A big man in the front row wearing a
colorful sweater and a leather hat stood up and raised his arm to the
crowd. A cheer went up. He sat down and 'Rissa continued.
“Alright, let's get this party started!” A big cheer. “Let's
give it up for our first performer who comes from right here in this
neighborhood, JoJo!” Clapping and cheering greeted a young petite
woman to the stage.
I am JoJo and I am sad this day – and every day.
Cuz when I walk down my street I wonder which way
I should turn.
Turn like you, turn like me, turn like those who don't want
people to turn.
All I know is I must turn. So I turn and I turn and I turn until I...
JoJo's performance continued and faded
in and out of Claire's consciousness. “Turn, I turn, must turn,”
thought Claire's brain. Next up was a young man named Mouse. He
wore thick-framed glasses and a cotton print flower shirt. His
performance was punctuated by rhythmically yelling “burn it down,
build it up!” fifty times and then bowing his head and leaving the
stage. The crowd cheered loudly. “Burn it up, build it down,”
seeped into Claire's brain.
The next several performances drifted
through Claire's internal performance. She’d occasionally snag a
line or phrase on the rough surfaces of her concentration. Her
friends were enjoying themselves. Topping and Charlotte seemed to be
having the most fun, yelling and cheering for most of the performers.
Bartholomew liked some of the performances more than others and
would lean forward and say something to Ned after most of them. Ned
responded by nodding in agreement or by laughing. Ned, for his part,
found most of the performances a bit tedious. He couldn't understand
why everybody was yelling their lines. They all seemed angry.
Tony Curtis walked up to the mic. The
theater hushed. In a strong calm voice he began:
I am a manSure as you are what you are.
I am large, powerful. Do I intimidate you? Do I inspire you? I am a man.
I look over this crowd and I see my past. I used to dream, too.
Yes, I used to dream, but I do not anymore. My past is no comfort. I am a man.
I used to dream of a Land of Promise,a place called Hope.
My dreams have left me empty, though many have come true. I am a man.
I see you all taking the flame into your hearts, seeking to cross the Jordan.
I take pride in your hope and your passion and... I... lift... you... up. I am a man.
My time has passed, I no longer carry the flame.
Some would call me cynical, some lazy. Perhaps I'm jus' tired y'all. I am a man.
I am not angry, I am not haunted, I am not lost.
I know who I am. I no longer struggle and question. I am a man.
I have grown beyond the struggle you now take up – the struggle you use to define yourself.
When I look at you I do not see 'the future,' I see what has always been and always will be. I am a man.
I see a school of fish in a stream, one of many streams full of fish all heading to an ocean full of even more fish.
The ocean you swim in is not made of water. It is made of Love. I am a man.
To struggle is to sharpen one's mind. To love is to soften one's heart.
Youth is drawn to struggle, but the Elders understand the true life is of the heart. I am a man.
It has been a long road to where I am and deviations were part of the journey.
Your journey is just beginning, what deviations lay ahead no one knows. I am a man.
Sure as you are what you are.
I am a man.
Tony stepped away from the mic and his
footsteps rang through the theater as he walked to his seat. The
silence lingered like a thick soft frost clinging to tree branches.
'Rissa came forward and leaned into the mic. “Now, we have a first
timer, Claire.”
There was tepid applause as people
were still inside Tony's performance. Claire's friends, especially
Charlotte, patted her on the shoulders and gave her encouragement as
she rose from her seat. Tony Curtis smiled and gave her a thumbs up
as she made her way to the stage. The mic was just a bit too high
for Claire, She tried to adjust it but it wouldn't budge. She
cleared her throat and raised up on her toes. She began:
“I, um, I,” Claire flicked the
hair out of her eyes and went flatfoot. “I mean, I can't
imagine...oh, okay.” Claire searched for the first few words of
her performance. She was nervous but if she could remember the first
sentence she would be fine. Back up on her toes, she began:
I can't imagine what it will be like once this planet is done with us.
When I heard the bluebird call, its sweet voice singing in my heart,
I loved this world with its beauty and majesty and...
Claire went flatfoot her eyes looking
inside her head for clarity. Back on her toes.
...its sweet voice singing in my heart,
I loved this world with its beauty, majesty and heart.
The trees sway in the wind and call my name. Claire, Claire, Claire.
Topping adjusted his seat. Ned was
heard giving a sigh. Bartholomew sat quiet, his mind drifting off to
kale. The air in the theater shifted, Tony Curtis' performance was
very quickly gone and replaced with something writhing in pain.
Charlotte beamed at Claire, devouring her every letter, her every
movement.
I and the world, this planet, are one.
You can't tell me anything different. I know it is true.
Chickens and I have a million year history. We speak the same language.
Ned sunk down in his chair. A quiet
“ba-gaack” was heard from the back of the room. A few people
laughed lightly. Claire did not hear, the driver and pushers were in
and heads down in this bobsled of a performance.
But they did not care for you, oh Earth. No.
The Man dissed you and choked you and raped you.
And his henchmen and that stupid Mayor Dick laugh and spit on you.
They think we cannot see, but I can. And I can hear you, too.
Do you hear me Mayor Dick? I can hear you.
I can hear you like an atom bomb.
I can hear you Mayor Dick! You are ruining the thing I love.
You are ruining me.”
Claire's voice cracked. She was
breathing heavy and paused to compose herself. She did not pause
long enough.
I HATE YOU!! MAYOR DICK!! I HATE YOU!!! YOU ARE KILLING ME!!! STOP IT!! STOP!!
I HATE YOU!! MAYOR DICK!! I HATE YOU!!! YOU ARE KILLING ME!!! STOP IT!! STOP!!
Tears were streaming down Claire's
face, her nose was running. Her eyes pleaded with the audience to
come to her side, to join her in shouting down the horror she was
witnessing. The crowd was quiet.
“Remember the chickens,” Claire
said and left the stage. She did not go back to her chair but walked
out the side door and collapsed on the loading dock of the theater.
Claire could not catch her breath and heaved heavy sobs into the dark
night sky.
“Cawww!” said an old friend.
“Chickens? What about me? Remember me?”
Claire's mouth was so full of
embarrassment she could not speak. So the crow did.
“Child! Still can't find your
bridge, can you? You have no home. You have no...cawww!”
The crow melted into the night as
Charlotte came out the door. She said nothing and came to sit next
to Claire. She wrapped her in her arms – and her friendship.
There they sat, the both of them. Both crying. A moment later, the
guys were there. Bartholomew and Topping hopped down off the dock
and stood in front of Claire and Charlotte and joined the hug. Ned
paused. He stared blankly at her while his eyes looked inside his
own head for clarity. Then he knelt down, kissed Claire on top of
the head and put his arms around her. Cocooned in the flesh and
bone of friendship, Claire let herself melt into a blubbering puddle
of anguish.
_________________________________________
Written by Mark Granlund
Illustrations by Meghan Hogan
_________________________________________
Written by Mark Granlund
Illustrations by Meghan Hogan
No comments:
Post a Comment