Simon

A Found Poem from Lord of the Flies 
(pgs. 18-68, 152-170)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9p8RK2DbcI4

Small, vivid, weak little boy, chin pointed high and eyes so bright.

“What’s your name?”, he was asked.

He sat up against a palm trunk and smiled pallidly.

“Simon”.

Adventurous; wandering off, looking over his shoulder, glancing swiftly round to confirm that he’s utterly alone.

Timid; putting out his hand to his leader for comfort, turning away and smearing the water from his cheeks.

Then the assembly was held.

“The beast?”, he was asked.

He stood by, silent.

“Maybe”, he said hesitantly, “maybe there is a beast”.

Confused; “I don’t know”. His heartbeats were choking him.

Unheard; becoming inarticulate in his effort to express mankind’s essential illness.

Simon’s effort fell about him in ruins; the laughter beat him cruelly.

“You knew didn’t you? You knew the beast is part of you.” he was asked.

Simon moved his swollen tongue but said nothing…

“Kill the beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!”

The blue-white scar was constant, the noise unendurable.

Simon crying out.

The beast lay still, a few yards from the sea.

The water rose further and dressed Simon’s coarse hair with brightness.

Simon’s dead body moved out towards the open sea.