The Realm of Calm

This poem/short story was inspired by one of my all time favorite books: I’ll Give You The Sun by Jandy Nelson.

The Realm of Calm:

I step into my room and gently close the door, keeping the lights off. I silently pad along, barefoot, over to the full length mirror mounted on my bathroom door. As I gaze into the mirror, I see a strange world unfold before me.

A girl, about 15, with tan skin and dark curly hair, slowly strolls along. As she moves, she leaves a trail of sleepy silence behind her. It lulls the birds into calm serenity, the breeze into curious bliss, and the trees and flowers into lazy content.

As she walks out of sight with a carefree smile on her face, quietly humming to herself, I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. As the memory of this girl pulls me into her realm of calm, a balloon of insecurity, expanding and contracting as if breathing, lifts me up into the air while a whisper of wind escorts me inside the mirror.

I look to my side, and when I see her, I slowly start sinking down down down. Down back into my own skin. The girl sees me, smiles, and waves me over. I blink and suddenly I am so close that I could touch her, but before I do, she reaches out and takes my hand, still smiling.

I blink again, but she is gone. I am sad; this girl was special. I miss her; she was beautiful, kind, serene…I am nothing. As the memory of the girl from the realm of calm swirls in my mind, the balloon, now dwindling with a deafening cry of defeat, again lifts me up into the air.

This time, the once gentle wind coldly claws at me, ripping my clothing as it shoves me to and fro. With one final gust, it pushes me back out of the mirror, and I collapse into a ball of insignificance, timidly looking up at my reflection.

I blink. And then I blink again. And again and again and again, because what I see as I look into the mirror is someone else entirely, except that it’s not, and it makes my eyes tear up. I look at myself over and over again, waiting to change back but praying that I won’t.

I don’t.

Through my blurry vision, I see a girl. A special girl. A beautiful, kind, serene girl. As I gaze into my reflection I see a girl, about 15, with tan skin and dark curly hair, sitting on the floor of an unlit room.

Crying.

Smiling.

Broken.

Perfect.

I see a girl who watched a girl hypnotize the whole world, and herself along with it.