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Prose for Nancy

A Poem

Natalia Dyer as Nancy Wheeler in Stranger Things

The journey of maturity

is not a trip you plan to make.

It starts with simple revelations

breaking fantasies. Now wide awake


you stumble into situations and scenarios

bizarre yet real that wait on you to act.

Anchors and landmarks hide and give way,

leaving only odds against you stacked.


Fear and strife make strange bedfellows

and unexpected allies that you come to trust

more so than those bonded by the loose thread of blood.

Fragmented remnants of your life before turn to dust


and a gust from your own lips casts it away.

A plethora of possibilities sits in your hands,

a roulette wheel that spins around, around.

Around you, faces waiting for your commands


that will stop the spinning and start a moment.

Sometimes, instead of a wheel, there’s a coin to toss,

a dart to throw, dice to roll, a yes or no

waiting for your go ahead. You double-cross


some to help most, or on occasion just yourself.

But, loyalty is not a guarantee to those who

misuse their wheels and dice and coins and yeses

and no’s for cruelty. At times it’s only you


whose cards allow the chance to set wrongs right.

So you call, stop, toss, throw, roll, and summon

the future like a god. But do not make yourself out

to be a god. Despite the power you possess, you’re human


and are not promised to be the hero at every turn.

The facets of your existence are infinite

and always changing. Some you understand, some you don’t.

But if you stand by what you’ve done, then every choice was worth it.

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Prose for Nancy
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