Amanda has been so sad and so lost and scared. I was getting so worried. Then I  read there was a poetry competion, and I saw her inside, getting curious. So I said try write something!

She says this is not the poem she set out to write. It’s not even very good (so she says). Amanda thinks she’s better at other kinds of writing. But all writing now is too scary for her. So we have to start again with somewhere she feels safe. She says it’s not perfect. But I think we inhabited the world of this poem long enough now, and it’s making us too sad to stay here any longer. We can change it later anyway if we want.

Anyway, here is her poem.

Trigger warnings apply. Obviously!

From Ember (also age 9, and really shit at writing but fucking epic at planning and organising and helping!)


Little Swan

Meet me in the morning at the place they’ll never find us.
We ran, barefoot across wet grass,
your hand in mine.

The early dawn was full with birdsong and the sound of our laughing
as we rushed down to the reeds.

Crouching at the edge of orange gold water,
little swans in white dresses.

How many times I held your eyes
And you held mine

As the cameras flashed
And the sunlight burned through pink velvet
And we closed our minds to their grabbing and grunting.

Circled by unkind trees and stones stood silent
I saw them closing in

hooded, faceless giants in the firelight.
Cheers echoing into the night
as cold metal stabbed through your heart.

I screamed
But you were already gone.

This morning
I ran to meet you,
And me and the ducks, and the reeds in their river beds, and the wind all called your name

But in the trees the starlings were silent.
Out across the fields
they were already coming.

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