The Great Unknown

Sometimes

When I’m bored

Or tired

Or plagued by insomnia

Or just curious

I wonder about the lives

Of the Big Ones

The splotchy ones

The unknown ones

Hanging

In the sky above

And I wonder

If they wonder about us

Too

I wonder

Do they imagine

Our lives

Running, scurrying

From place to place

Paving stone

To paving stone

Flowerbed

To flowerbed

 

I wonder

What they are

How big

How many millimetres

Will I ever know?

Are they just

The smudgy shapes we see

Building brick mountains

Destroying our cities

Filling the sky

Blacking out our lives

Until they move

 

Or is there more?

Do they

Have antennae

Have families

Have tribes

Have lives

Just like us

 

The others ignore them

The black,

White

Occasionally beige

Sometimes red

Shapes

In the sky above

The others only pay attention

If one of us is caught

Underneath

At the wrong moment

Smashed and crushed

To a painful

Slow

Death

 

Are they more?

Or are they just

The shapes

Nobody asks about

Nobody thinks about

Nobody cares about

Nobody notices

In the sky above

Ignored

Abandoned

Neglected

Until

They wreak

Death and destruction?

And

Will I ever know?


This poem is my first attempt at non-journalistic writing for a veerryyy looongg time, and just kind of popped into my head. I kind of interpret it as being about a curious ant in a garden, but I would love to hear your interpretations, feedback and opinions. Any feedback is welcome! I was kind of inspired by Jodi Picoult’s young adult book Between The Lines, about the life of characters inside a story book, and by John Wyndham’s dystopian fiction novel The Chrysalids, about a post-apocalyptic world.

What do you think?

An Overthinking Teenager

 

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5 thoughts on “The Great Unknown

  1. BearNextDoor says:

    Wow, this honestly sounds like something thatwould be ppublished in an anthology. I love Jodi Picoult’s writing so much! I’m currently reading one of her books called ‘lone wolf’ she gets into so much detail. I’m horrible at interpretations but I thought this poem was a sort of.. Montague of some sort so I guess I was almost on the right track? 😛 wow, this is getting long, so I’ll end.. here I guess, sorry

    Like

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