Outbound

I’ve never used this blog for poetry, but there’s a first time for everything, right? After the emotional tumult that was this past week, I found myself pulling out my computer while on the train today, writing about the things that passed by the window. Eventually what started as list of things I was seeing, became a poem about what those things made me think of. I even took some photography along the way, and the one photo I snapped sparked a name, and a theme on which to build. So without further ado, I introduce my first ever poem to be published on the internet. (nervous laughter)

OUTBOUND

A Poem With Photos by Elayna Mae Darcy (11/13/16)

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2016 (c) Elayna Mae Darcy

Brick and street
and leaf and stone.
People moving, cars zipping,
mac trucks en masse waiting,
in steel yards full
of gravel and industry.

There’s something strange
in seeing the bones of metal giants
strewn about like skeletons,
disassembled parts of
carcass tossed aside,
just like all the
men and women
who built them.

Billboards and promises,
things bought and borrowed
that might change minds.
Extra space for things an ad reads,
but no quarter for hope.

Steaks hoagies beer and broken fences.
Leaves and trees dying by the roadside,
but still more alive than those that drive by.

STOP HERE.
DO NOT ENTER.
Hearts forbidden at this intersection.
High tech auto parts for low tech kindness.

Dilapidated homes in rows,
but none as torn and broken as those
lost in throws of their despair.

This world is a graffitied graveyard,
covered in art manifested from pain.
REBELLION in fire engine red
on the side of a crumbled wall.

Windows shattered, boards all shuttered.
Outbound, headed for oblivion.

Rock faces and tarnished places,
green and orange and yellow blurs
mingle in metal and stone,
carrying those who’ve grown,
wearing broken grins.

Further, from the city it dies.

More homes, more green,
more promises,
more dreams fulfilled
in the land filled
with recycled milk cartons
and empty honey bears
from an afternoon’s tea
by the “special” living rooms
where no one can
actually sit.

Out here,
it’s a different
kind of broken.

But still broken.

Every one of us is
outbound for oblivion…

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2016 (c) Elayna Mae Darcy
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Failures & Dreams

This morning, I’m waking up at the crack of dawn for a moment I’ve waited almost a year for. As the sun rises, and the crisp November air bites with both a chill and a promise, I’ll be off to see Hamilton in New York City.

Today also begins another NaNoWriMo adventure; my twelfth attempt in thirteen years. I’ll be taking the month to punch my rewriting efforts to warp speed, with the intention of completing the new draft of They Are the Last before the month is out. I’ve spent months chipping and hacking away at bits and bobs of a second draft, but now’s crunch time. Do or die. Write or—well, there really is no other option. There is no try, there’s only the words.

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And lastly, today is the day my Inkshares campaign should have ended, had I not cancelled in back in September. On the verge of such excitement and success and fulfilling of dreams, there is also a small sense of sadness that I didn’t accomplish what I’d set out to back in February with my campaign.

So many people, my hero J.K. Rowling included, have spoken on what it means to fail, and how it builds you as a person. Hank Green recently did a video about his own experiences “failing” at a convention that’s adored by hundreds. I “failed” at a campaign to fund a book, but made friends and connections and gained experiences that already have, and will continue to shape me. Some of the things I learned haven’t even fully hit me yet, and won’t until the moment is right. But here’s what I do know.

This year has been immeasurably incredible. I’ve fallen hard—my campaign, my financial instability as I search for a job that’s right for me, my depression and anxiety flaring up and making some days feel impossible to function through. But I’ve also seen and done things this year that I could NEVER have fathomed possible, with two whole months more of that to come with who knows what sort of magic.

I’ve dreamed of things, sometimes things bigger than the world has told me I should dare to. Last year, I said I wanted to see Hamilton. “IMPOSSIBLE,” cried everyone. Yet here I sit here with my ticket on my desk. I wanted to get my book published, but instead managed to be part of an anthology to be published by Nerdist Industries. I dreamed for so, so many things, because in my heart, a dreamer is what I always have been and always shall be. But in the process of bringing these dreams to life, there have been, and will inevitably be, more moments of failure.

I will fail, so I can savor the dreams. I will dream harder, so I know that when I fail, there’s still something to fight for.

“We do not need magic to transform our world. We carry all of the power we need inside ourselves already.” —J.K. Rowling

Happy NaNoWriMo, everyone. Here’s to the failures sure to come, and to the courage to strive for our dreams in the face of them. After all, there’s a million things we haven’t done, but just you wait…

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