Owen’s Destiny
A poem recounting the plot of A Prayer for Owen Meany by John Irving
This poem is part of the NaPoWriMo 2024 challenge to write a poem a day in April. This is the prompt for April 1.
Today, we’d like to challenge you to write – without consulting the book – a poem that recounts the plot, or some portion of the plot, of a novel that you remember having liked but that you haven’t read in a long time.
A diminutive figure, His voice, a delicate whisper, A soft breeze that stirs the leaves. With a wisdom beyond his years, he Carries the weight of destiny's hand Upon his small shoulders. He sees himself as a vessel, A divine instrument guided by A force greater than himself. Owen's life unfolds, A mosaic of shattered glass pieced Together with delicate precision. His friendship with John, Woven with threads of loyalty And unbreakable bonds. A tragic accident During a baseball game As fate hits a foul ball. A fleeting comet, blazing a trail The crack of the bat reverberating As the ball finds its target. Striking the head Of a beloved— John's mother. A moment that Echoes like thunder Through their lives. A haunting presence, A shadow over their friendship Sets in motion a series of events. Through adolescence and adulthood, The world rages around them With war, social unrest, political upheaval. The Vietnam War looms, A storm cloud, casting shadows Of uncertainty and fear. Owen, a beacon of hope, Stands tall amidst the chaos, His faith, unwavering. His voice, the weight of a nation's conscience, Challenging the status quo Questioning faith’s boundaries. In the end, his selflessness, sacrifice, Carries sorrow and awe; An indelible mark on those who bear witness. Owen's voice urges us to examine our beliefs, Question the meaning of our existence, and Embrace the power of faith and love.
Author’s Note
I consider “A Prayer for Owen Meany” one of John Irving’s finest works. I read this novel many years ago and have re-read it at least three times, but I haven’t picked it up again in over a decade.
This novel had a profound impact on me. Although it had moments of hilarious humor, it also instilled a deep sense of unease and anticipation. It felt like an impending thunderstorm, uncertain of its arrival or impact. If you decide to read it, be prepared for it to shift your concerns to something deeper than war, which may not be a bad thing.
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Congrats on your poem-a-day-April venture. As I learned a long time ago, writing is easy until you commit to a frequency to others! Many years ago I was wrestling with a great recommendation by Ray Bradbury. It was 'about to be' the anniversary of my daily Musing column, but I could not muster the nerve to commit to my readers that, in addition to a daily column, that I would do what Bradbury recommended - write a short story a week for a year. I chickened out, and since I'd been playing around with some poems about that time, I thought committing to writing a 'poem a day for a year' would be something I could do, so I committed and somehow miraculously did it. Admittedly, some were short and weak, some were good. I followed up the following year with a self-challenge to write a short story a week - I fell short at 38 in 52 weeks. The reason for my writing - or, 'the moral of this story is' this - writing anything, short or long, every day is easier than we fear. It doesn't always have to be great - it needs to be regular. I'm in my 22nd year of writing a column every day (you can find it here on Substack - https://markmusing.substack.com/ - where I've also begun again (this year's 'commitment to self') project - so there are Poems and Short Stories showing up there too! None of mine would have happened if it was not for Ray Bradbury's encouragement. I'm sure there will be many writers telling their stories years from now, explaining how Caro inspired them! Well done.
Cheers,
Mark
eye opening you truly had my attention