Child of Words (A Poem)

By Joyce Jacobo

[Author’s Note: The act of writing is magical. I have always been blown away by the fact that we can create characters, scenes, and stories on a page to share with others, to brighten their day or do any number of things. It feels like, as writers, painters, illustrators, etc., we are bringing whole worlds to life.]

Yesterday I crafted a character

A girl woven together by words

She was a sketch done in a quiet moment

Inspired only by a sudden creative urge

that refused to give me peace

Until I allowed it to flow freely

I gave her jade pupils that glittered

Whenever she became excited

And freckles like spilled brown sugar

To cover the tanned cheeks of her face

Then scruffy hair the shade of a desert at dusk

I clothed my character in thick gloves

To keep her hands warm in the cold

Along with sturdy boots and goggles

For extra protection on her travels

As a final touch I gave her wings

That she could draw in tight

Beneath a hooded woolen cloak

As my character twirled about

There on the page before me

I felt an odd sad twang inside

For I had created textual life

With such little effort on my part

Who was this strange character?

This girl born from words?

Was she only my creation

Or perhaps even a daughter?

Where does a character end

And the writer who creates them begin?

But my imagined character just turned to me

With her jade eyes that glittered in eagerness  

Before her grand wings spread out wide

My character soared away into the skies

While I sat before the page on my work desk

Tears ready to burst free at the idea

Of her departure to a faraway place

What a wondrous thing we are…

We writers who create fictional life