The VCR Diaries- Act 3, Part 2

The VCR Diaries- A Poetic Documental based on the Novel Erased

Act 3- Reece, Part 2

It’s still hard to see.  The room is filled with projections.  It was a sharp turn back there, and if they didn’t grasp the context of the documentals two acts ago, now they’ve got it.  I’m the child.  Cassie is the single adult, and Veronica is the mother.  We’ve all faced a trap or two, and we’ve all left it face down.  From here, I grow up quickly. 

Swapping Dreams

I still remember her,

Her dreams,

They’re brutal.

She still recalls me,

My visions,

They’re crucial.

Sometimes they’re one and the same,

Other times they're two.

Her cheekbones are high,

Her forehead hard,

Her mouth glued shut,

For the most part.

I’m outspoken,

And I hide my cheekbones behind a smile.

When she looks at herself in the mirror,

She quivers,

And she knows she doesn’t belong there.

I stare,

She stares back,

It’s the promise in me that chills her,

And it’s the weakness in her that tempers me.

I carry her in my purse,

Never had the guts to dispose of her,

While she takes me behind the curtain,

And tries to pick my brain.

We’re more than two worlds apart,

There’s centuries between us,

But we get together over chocolate.

I don’t talk to her,

I save my words.

She still cries to me,

I bottle her words.

From where I’m standing,

I know she’s dying,

And from where she’s standing,

She can tell that I’m dead.

There’s no cross in the path,

There’s no way to meet.

Yet the color on the wall in front of me,

Tells me,

At her start she saw my end,

And at my end I’ll give her a start.

She’ll dream of me,

And I would have dreamt of her,

And we’ll dance all night long,

Centuries apart.   

The Drawing

In the beginning,

I had many talents.

In the beginning,

I drew.

At breakfast,

I met him,

And he drew.

Now we draw on the same page…

I saw him working on her,

At first I thought she could be me,

But he left her pale.

She waited in the corner,

On an easel,

To see what I would add,

But I refused to touch her.

Yet in my lap,

On a pad,

My girl had a similar nose,

And the same raise in her left brow.

I left the pad in the kitchen,

But by morning,

She was in my car.

I worked on her in a lunch meeting,

And brought her back to bed in the evening,

She was still speaking,

And kissing his ear.

I can see clear,

And do compare.

It’s an uncommon drawing for me…

A portrait,

You see.

And though my girl is black,

And his girl is white,

In the end,

It’s the same ten.

He’s amazed,

I sit in a daze.

I know his secret,

And he knows mine.

He worked to disguise her,

But she wished that I would meet her.

I’ve got questions to ask,

He’s got answers to give.

We’re both trying to get them out,

But she’s speaking…

And her left brow remains raised.  

All Poems Written by NaTisha Renee Williams 

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The VCR Diaries Copyright 2018 by Natisha Renee Williams, All Right Reserved.