Human puppet: A poem
By Alexandriana Davis
Suspended in the air
I am limp; one might say I sleep.
Dressed in cloth, I lie in the dark
Waiting for my moment in the spotlight.
I feel my arms tingle
Yet I cannot seem to lift them.
My head lies uncomfortably to the side
The eyes frozen to the same spot on the wood.
My shoes are polished, my hair trimmed.
Prepped by somebody else, I am ready
For the outside world to see me.
The curtains draw open, and applause erupts.
My head pulls itself upward,
My arms begin moving from side to side.
I step out into the spotlight, astounded
By the audience who awaits me.
I hold on to their laughter and smiles,
Their grins, as they watch me glide
From one side of the stage to the other.
They see me move with grace, with eloquence,
As if it were my own mind controlling my body,
Telling me to bend backward and spin in circles.
Little do they know that there are strings
Rising above my body, picked and prodded
So the one behind the curtain
Can use me for their amusement.
I have never had control over my motions.
I do not know what it is like for my eyes to wander,
For my head to shake, for my knees to buckle,
Without someone doing it for me.
I grin into the spotlight, but that is because
My face was painted in that way.
They told me to smile, they made me smile.
I do not know a world where I can determine
How I move throughout it.
Sometimes, I wish I might move myself.
I imagine the strings snapping off and
Breaking free. The audience will laugh
And cry not because someone else
Is determining my routine, but
Because I am.
I will gracefully descend onto the stage,
My eyes moving by themselves to see
All the voices and faces who watch below.
I can decide my outfits,
Even put them on myself.
I will not be confined to the backstage
Upon the completion of the performance;
I will go out into the world, explore,
Discover, live.
I think to myself, in a new thought,
That perhaps I will never return to the stage,
No longer a toy for the amusement of others.
Perhaps instead, I will find joy in myself
And comfort in the unknown of the world.
These fantasies are what I dream about
Late into the night, as I am suspended in the air.
When my performance is over, I go back
To the darkness behind the curtains,
Left alone with my thoughts.
Deep down, I know these fantasies
Will never come true.
These strings are attached to my livelihood;
My status as puppet is the only thing keeping me
From ruination. The moment those strings
Are cut is the moment my value is stripped
From me. I will become just another doll,
Tattered, broken, unwanted.
Perhaps this is the difference
Between hopes and dreams.
My hopes for a better future here are long gone,
Taken from me long ago.
But in another world, a world without performance,
I might get to live freely.
Only in my imagination of another world
Do I find myself finally unattached
From someone else’s strings.
