Cher
Laying on top of the blankets on my bed
I am reading about Cher.
I am 12,
Cher is 29,
and in my hands is her biography
Reading the story of her rise to fame
her escape from Sonny
her glamorous life
I put the book down for a moment
laying it across my chest
and stare at the bedroom ceiling.
I dare wonder,
as if she can hear me wonder,
What is she doing right now?
Is she having guests over?
Is she making dinner?
Is she performing on stage
or getting ready to go out?
Is she spending money
Is she sleeping
or singing
or trying on clothes?
Is she walking around in those great shoes
like everybody else?
There in my bedroom in Sudbury
I tried on the lives of others.
Every biography
gave me a bit more life
more energy
the fuel I needed
to leave my roots
and write my own story
instead of following a narrative,
handed down from generation to generation,
with a predictable ending.
2 comments:
Wow! What a powerful experience from reading biography. I loved the way you set the scene and then followed through with the emotion.
What a strong person you were. even as a child, to look for, and find, all by yourself, other ways to live. To free yourself from the expectations of your birth, whatever they were, to live any way you could imagine, with the help of others' stories.
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