I wrote this after reading my poem Kess' song. I love the character Kess and I connected to the books a whole ton. This is a short little bit of writing that couldn't really be called poem or story. It verges on the line of both. From me to all the writers and readers out there. Enjoy!Kestrel: Always
Kess. It is not a strange name; it is a beautiful one. Kess. It told that through all her gruffness there was gentleness, and love. She had firey dark eyes and dark hair like a raven. Strong, you could call her. But I called her brave.
She never knew me. But I thought I knew her. I observed all that she did with dark eyes, like hers, and an open mind. I admired her as she stood on the Wind Singer yelling at all the people when she was young. And I wondered if I could ever do that.
Sometimes though, she would make me annoyed, but I could never totally loathe her. She was stern to Mumpo when she was younger but learned how to hold a grudging compassion. She helped Bowman from the Morah and knew he was scarred in some way. Just because she was loud and spontaneous did not mean she couldn't tell, and couldn't worry. She worried that they would have to grow apart, the twins. The ones who always went together and some would try to part them. Like Gemini in the sky I knew they could never be parted, not really.
When they were totally alone for the first time in their life, they both started down on different paths that would determine the rest of their existence. But though their ones conjoined lives strayed they found a way back together, like a river. At first it starts out from its source then breaks apart and scouts new lands. But though the two different rivers break, they always end up in the same place, the homeland.
Kess; with her spirit and passion who could dance like she was flying, who insisted that they always go together turned out to be the one who fulfilled their destiny. Bowman, who had been so convinced that it was him, saw his sister and the Singers dance on the wind. He went with them, in awe of his sister. Like we all were, I presume. Who knew that she had so much power? It was always Bowman, and we seemed to forget Kestrel. But we never really did. She was always the spirit and Bowman was the power. She always encouraged him, as we did ourselves.
And even though she was gone, she lived on in her brother; Bowman, her twin. And we all watched her grow until she was ready, as we never get to see for ourselves how we do. Us, as readers, got to know her, perhaps even love her. I thought I knew her and she will never know me. We must thank the creator of their world; an author, a mere mortal who become immortal through his words.
This is what I strive to be, this is what I am. I am a writer. I am a reader who thinks she knows the character of Kestrel. Because that character reflects the real me.