Today's prompt for the Thursday Think Tank is books. My favorite is The Kite Runner, so I read it every other month or so. Here is my poem inspired by the book. To read the other entries or to join in go here.
For you a thousand times over
Even if I have to cross the sea
Or brave the desert
I'll come find the little
Pieces of you
Left over from
Our childhood
Here is the synopsis taken from Khaled Hosseini's website:
Taking us from Afghanistan in the final days of the monarchy to the present,
The Kite Runner is the unforgettable, beautifully told story of the
friendship between two boys growing up in Kabul. Raised in the same household
and sharing the same wet nurse, Amir and Hassan nonetheless grow up in different
worlds: Amir is the son of a prominent and wealthy man, while Hassan, the son of
Amir's father's servant, is a Hazara, member of a shunned ethnic minority. Their
intertwined lives, and their fates, reflect the eventual tragedy of the world
around them. When the Soviets invade and Amir and his father flee the country
for a new life in California, Amir thinks that he has escaped his past. And yet
he cannot leave the memory of Hassan behind him.
The Kite Runner
is a novel about friendship, betrayal, and the price of loyalty. It is about the
bonds between fathers and sons, and the power of their lies. Written against a
history that has not been told in fiction before, The Kite Runner
describes the rich culture and beauty of a land in the process of being
destroyed. But with the devastation, Khaled Hosseini also gives us hope: through
the novel's faith in the power of reading and storytelling, and in the
possibilities he shows for
redemption.
This one was tough because I think extremely highly of Khaled Hosseini's The Kite Runner. Hopefully I didn't disgrace it too much. To join in or read the other contributions go here.
Original paragraph:
I became what I am today at the age of twelve, on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975. I remember the exact moment, crouching behind a crumbling wall, peeking into the alley near the frozen creek. That was a long time ago, but it's wrong what they say about the past, I've learned, about how you can bury it. Because the past has a way of clawing its way out. Looking back now, I realize I have been peeking into that deserted alley for the last twenty-six years.
My rewrite:
I didn't plan for any of it to happen. If I had known he would turn out this way I never would have wasted a second thought on him. It was what I saw that day on a frigid overcast day in the winter of 1975 that changed my life forever. I remember the precise moment, hiding behind an old dumpster with the wind from the frozen lake chilling me. It was a long time ago, but I've learned that what they say about being able to bury the past is wrong. The past has a way of forcing its way back into our lives. Looking back, I realize I've been stuck in that moment in time for the last twenty-six years.
Comments and constructive criticism always welcome!
