The Pictures in My Head

In my reading theory class we recently discussed how everyone has an inner monologue when they read. Engaged readers tell a character they are stupid or think "this is boring" or wonder what will happen or just see pictures of settings and characters. For my young adult literature course, I recently read a book called First They Killed My Father by Loung Ung and I was aware of the pictures my mind was drawing. Since I can't draw worth a darn, I tried to express that picture in my own words and used it for my composition class (yes I just combined three different classes in one project; this is how much they blend together haha). This is the short poem I wrote about the main character Loung and I thought I'd share it with you this week.

Luong tightens her right hand, tiny and blistering,

around her father’s index finger.

The world is too big and she is

too small.

Being “big for your age” doesn’t help

in this foreign land of rice fields and sky.

Bulky and awkward,

the rice bowl weighs down her left side.

She walks like a crippled person, but she has rubber soles

beneath her feet.

Not everyone is so lucky.

Beads of sweat, warm and salty, trickle

down her pale forehead

She squints at the never-ending road

with her tired brown eyes.

How long can they possibly keep walking?