DINSMORE - “Today,” a poem written by Abigail Friesen, a Grade 12 student from Dinsmore Composite School was recently published in Windscript Magazine.
Windscript is an annual publication of the the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild. It has been publishing the best of original writing from Saskatchewan high school students since 1983. Through Windscript, the Saskatchewan Writers’ Guild supports fresh, original work by students writers.
This is the fourth time Abigail has been published in Windscript. Her story “A Mind Gone,” was published in the 2021 edition and in the 2022 edition both her poem “The Butterfly,” and her prose “Scribbles” were published.
Abigail said the following about her poem "Today," and why she wrote it. "I am a Grade 12 student who has always adored writing and looked to it as an outlet since childhood. I regularly write both poems and prose. This poem, in particular, utilizes a series of metaphors and vivid imagery to depict the speaker's struggle with self-acceptance, ending in their ultimate decision to refrain from self-harm. While I do not have personal experience with self-harm, I believe that grappling with self-image and self-acceptance are universal experiences. The emphasis on the word "today" illustrates the significance of the present moment and the transformative potential it holds, as the concept of taking one day at a time is a powerful approach when it comes to overcoming challenges."
This is Abigail's poem, 'Today':
Today, I do not hunt the wolves
whose lonesome howls pervade the night,
who have found their famished bodies
and lithe limbs ensnared in steel traps
—wolves who have gnawed off a piece of themselves
and limped away in the sacrifice of survival.
Today, the craters of the moon speak
of more than imperfection,
but are tribute to all she has endured
in her timeless orbit,
as she met countless impervious asteroids
seeking a violent collision
on her tireless voyage around her world.
Today, I do not cut down the wild thicket
entangled with serrated-edged weeds,
growing among sweet-smelling flowers
and springing up from the shadowed forest floor
—choked out by invasive species but still growing
to the crowded canopy, fighting
for a glimpse of the sun.
Today, I do not vandalize the weathered manor
whose dilapidated walls sink into the yawning ground
—a place infested with vermin but still standing upright
against the elements, riddled with remnants of warmth,
a testament to its relentless desire
to give shelter in a storm.
