K. Paz, “Just let it out”
“Amid all this chatter of marrying and giving in marriage, Joscelyn felt like a nonentity–and nobody, least of all a Penhallow with Spanish blood in her, likes to feel like a nonentity.”
– A Tangled Web by L.M. Montgomery
there she sits.
joscelyn penhallow, each and every one of us.
feeling, not quite invisible,
but disposable, unimportant, unrelated.
plastic wrap in a world of
vibrant, sparkling shapes.
Nonentity.
there she sits.
in her cozy armchair of ignored solitude.
it is safe within its confines,
though she will admit it is cold–
her hands are cold, her face is cold,
her voice is cold from underuse.
Nonentity.
there she sits.
you must feel for poor joscelyn
if only you would watch her
in the silence, in the spotlight,
uncomfortable and alone
during her own standing ovation.
Nonentity.
there she sits.
maybe in her mind she is someone.
she is the star of her own romance,
she is the juliet in search,
she will soon find out who she is,
she has dreams, needs, wants.
Nonentity.
there she sits.
because even when you write a poem
telling her she is not a nonentity,
she believes it.
she says “i’m no juliet”
and laughs, like it’s so true it’s funny.
Nonentity.
there she sits.
she will never escape that lie.
even when she finds her heart,
her love, the man she ran from,
she will have that remnant
forever etched into the fabric of her.
Nonentity.
there she sits.
letting them call her poor joscelyn
silently by the doorway
as the town monsters scream.
somewhere in the depths of her,
her own voice is saying unworthy, unworthy
Nonentity.
joscelyn penhallow chose this.
and so did i.