The prompt for April 9 took me a minute.
Today, I’d like to challenge you to read a few of the poems from Spoon River Anthology, and then write your own poem in the form of a monologue delivered by someone who is dead. Not a famous person, necessarily – perhaps a remembered acquaintance from your childhood, like the gentleman who ran the shoeshine stand, or one of your grandmother’s bingo buddies. As with Masters’ poems, the monologue doesn’t have to be a recounting of the person’s whole life, but could be a fictional remembering of some important moment, or statement of purpose or philosophy. Be as dramatic as you like – Masters’ certainly didn’t shy away from high emotion in writing his poems.
I kept thinking about who I would want to encapsulate in a poem. And then I remembered this woman who used to wander around my hometown when I was younger. Everyone called her "crazy," and her legend seems to have lived on.
I am not too keen on calling people "crazy"; I think mental health needs to be destigmatized in order for us to grow as a society. It isn't too often that we look through the disorder plaguing someone and see the human that is standing there.
I often wonder if anyone ever truly looked at Betty.