Susan

This poem is based on the Susan from the Chronicles of Narnia.  I grew up with Narnia.  Being in the play (The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe) I've been thinking about it a lot more.  In the book series, you find out in the last book that Susan stops believing in Narnia.  I always wondered why.  Something that the actress of Susan told us really stuck with me.  She said, "Susan thought so much about what other people thought of her, that Narnia didn't matter any more."

I never thought of it that way.  I think about my own faith, I live it and breathe it, I can't imagine life without God.  

I also can't imagine a day going by that I don't think about what other people think of me, and what I can do to be better accepted.

She thought so much about what others thought of her, that Narnia didn't matter anymore. 
Susan is a fictional character.  Unfortunately there are a lot (all) of the characters in Narnia I have a hard time accepting as fictional.  Because I feel like I've met them all before.  Aslan.  Edmund.  Puddle Glum.  Jill.  Peter.  And Susan.  Weak willed Susan's, like me.

I'm a little sibling with a perfect older sister or two, so I found it easy to write this poem though Lucy's point of view.  (No, I'm not playing Lucy in the play.  I'm playing the evil minion dwarf.  So I shouldn't be so sentimental.  It takes some effort to keep myself from crying while Aslan is being killed).  

Susan 

Susan, 

My sister, 

Lucy here.

Remember that time,

We were filled with fear?

You covered my eyes, 

And held me tight, 

And sang me a song 

About wrong and right.

Susan, 

Remember, 

That touch of snow,

When your eyes were opened,

To what you didn't know.

That my magical world

Was actually real.

One you could touch, 

Taste

And feel.

And together we laughed,

Like you could care less,

About your looks, 

Your hair, 

Or your dress.

I captured that moment,

And held it that way

To hang on my wall 

For another day.

Susan,

Remember 

When the dark one's came,

And slaughtered our hope, 

As we watched in vain?

And we knew that nothing

Would be the same.

Then the stone table broke,

We jumped at the sound,

We saw the dark

Crumble to the ground.

When our hope arose

By the break of day,

Alive from the dead,

And evil fled away.

Susan,

Don't you remember our joy?

Why don't you remember the light?

We fought,

We danced, 

We smiled again, 

All in our perfect sight.

Susan, 

Susan, 

Where have you gone?

What are you trying to find?

In the Wardrobe between

What you believe,
And you left Narnia behind.

Susan,

You left it all behind.

Lost in the pleasure of things.

When you look in the mirror,

And then you find,

What these shallow joy's will bring.

Susan, 

My sister, 

Lucy here, 

And I don't know what to do

Without my Susan.

But I'm still right here.

I'm in Narnia waiting for you.

At Last

At Last 

The ground is gone,

So why look down?

We wither away,

But why do we frown?

This is the end.

So why don't we sing?

Music is life,

But it's life that we cling.

The world is fading,

We're fading fast.

I see it in your eyes, 

It's over at last.

But why do you cry,

As if we failed?

Come to the boat,

Together we'll sail.

Tonight we die,

So get up and dance.

Pick up your music,

This is our last chance.

Then sit down beside me,

Under the stars.

We'll raise up our coffee,

For the horizon's not far.

I think I'm quite ready for another adventure

-Bilbo 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HHnCQModx8

(Stones under Rushing Water; Neetobreathe).

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fngvQS_PmQ

(I See Fire; Ed Sheeran) 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=shdiTRxTJb4 

(Into the West; Lord of the Rings, Return of the King) 

Addings and Endings

First thing in the morning; I attack my journal.
I need to scribble everything down, all my anger and anxiety and embarrassment and worry.  I'm afraid.  I'm afraid because I'm too stupid for the world, because I'm too short and homely, because my future is a big blank peace of paper, because I'm not good enough or smart enough or pretty enough to survive in the acting world.

I write faster and faster, I'm on a roll, and just then I flip my journal over and I hit the back cover.  Right in mid sentence, my pen hovers over the dead end.  I didn't realize that that was the last page of my journal.
You may wonder why this is such a catastrophe.  Well, imagine that you're driving to Chick-fill-a and your starving and you see the sign in the distance and your so pumped for a chicken sandwich, just to get there and realize that it's Sunday.
Not only did my journal just while I was on a roll, but it also gave me a very lame ending.  Even if the middle of my journals are dirt, if it has a lovely opening and a lovely closing, then I feel satisfied before I tuck it away with the other Chronicles of my life.  But no.  This was the worst way to end a journal.  No redemption.  No hopeful comment.  Just some dumb rambling and complaining over some meaningless things.
I toss the journal and go scrounging about my basement like a scrappy ally cat, looking for a notebook.
I'm so angry at myself for not anticipating the journals end.  I was so busy worrying that I didn't bother to look ahead.

I think I got a glimpse of death.  No, no, I don't care that much about my journals, but isn't this kinda like how death works?

I recently watched the movie 'A Beautiful Mind' and one part in particular stuck with me.  When John is sitting there, and he asks what is there to do with his life.  And his wife answers that you can find anything to do, just add meaning.

When I come to the end of my journal, my life, I don't want to be worrying and complaining about all the things I listed above.
I have hands for writing.  Eye's for art.  A voice for people.
When people ask me what my dream car is, I reply, "Anything as long as it's simple, it takes me places, and has it's own weird look so I can find it in a parking lot."  Only recently have I figured out that I was describing me.
Careers.  Colleges.  Jobs.  Dreams.  Goals.  Hopes.  Adulting.  These things are kind of like the dream car I was talking about.  Passions, goals, they're your Tardis.  Your suit case.  You don't go anywhere without them.  But what's the point of a suit case if it's empty?  Because, friends, our journals are coming up on their last pages and we don't realize it.