by Jane Carnall
Call me eager. I see what you’re saying, and I’m ahead of you. I run on to meet you. I won’t let you finish if I know in advance what you’re going to say. Call me myself: that’s me. Fight me with words: I will win. Fight me with endurance: I will not lose. I will still be here.
Call me eager. I want more than I’m getting. I know what I can do, and I want it. I want my whole pot, down to the bottom. I want the bracelet that fell into the lake on which the wives rowed with their hair unloosened and their breasts bare. I want the lotus-tree on which the soul was hidden, the soul that could not die until the tree was cut. I want to tell the stories I can write. I want to know I’m admired, respected, able: I want to be a reliable person, able, ready, willing: I want to be paid for what I do, and paid well.
Call me eager. I want to travel. I want to see the world: the Grand Canyon, Ayers Rock, the Reichenbach Falls, the Victoria Falls, Niagra Falls: I want to fly, to sail, to swim: to stand on the Barrier Reef and to walk down empty beaches alone, alone, alone.
Call me eager. I want to see all there is to be seen. To write as well as I can write. To tell the story there is to be told. To be known, recognised, reliable, flaring bright and burning steadily, both, all, everything.
261 words
3 September 2002
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