My little girl, Tettany sits under the oak tree every day, counting suns, passers-by, to mention stars when darkness come too soon. She moves no limb save for her hands to point out those she loves the most. She chooses the fairest, wanted and, most sought after, because it is the only way to buy a dress. Or, that is what her mother said about little girls like Tettany who lay so low, not searching, not wanting to discover what lies beneath... the bellies of our fathers.
She stood in her majestic glory, A light at her head, Meandering whiteness at her feet, Her face was bright like the sun in the Savannah, Her body was the epitome of grace, Nothing could weaken her charm.
But, there were voices in the wind, Voices that threatened the foundation of her very existence. The flicker in her eyes grew intense, Her crystal tears fell fast, She knew the end was near.
She remembered the days of her youth, The brightness returned to her eyes, She stood up for the only thing that she knew best-pride. She stood up for the very last time, Before she was eaten away in the darkness of hardening sorrow.
He taps my door, calling out softly, "Ramses, Ramses, open the door." I curl up in the corner, widely eying the moving knob. I am shaken to no color. I am not ready. I am not ready for the other side.
He hits my door, calling out loudly, "Ramses, Ramses, open the door!" I hold my knees tightly to my chest, biting very hard into my lower lip. My heart is too loud. It is hurting my ears. I cannot breathe.
He bangs my door, calling out angrily, "Ramses, Ramses, open the door!" I know that tone, it weakens me, it scares me. I want to go but my legs are shaking terribly. I support myself on the wall, but keep falling. I stay put feeling betrayed by my own body but most of all feeling ashamed that I was about to give in.
Come to me, Cupid; Grant me a new life. Hang my old self on the stand; I do not want to miss it when you go. Shoot me with your finest arrow. Do not let it go in too deep; I have got to heal. Come to me, Cupid.
Come to me, Cupid; Aim for my right side; I need to use my head. Do not take me off my feet; I need to stand up after the fall. Take me under your wings; Do not promise me forever. Come to me, Cupid.
I can not sit down to write because I have no strength for it. I think... I lost the love for everything I held so dear. I loved to read and write, laugh and cry, kiss and break up, reap and sow. I loved all that GOD gave to man: the sun, the moon,the stars, the water, the air. I loved what man made as a co-creator: the money, the cars, the houses, the clothes. I loved all that made life complete.
I think, it is the love for life that I lost. I spend my days like a living dead, letting everything pass me by. I do not care whether it rains or shines, whether I'm loved or hated, praised or condemned. I do not care about the feelings I had in the good old days.
Have I even had those days? It seems like forever since I woke up with a smile on my face, thanked GOD for the day, kissed my loved one, walked on airs. It seems like forever since I sang songs of praise.
I want my GOD back, the ONE who gave me reason to live, the thirst for life. I want my GOD back to feel whole, to get my life back.
My little girl, Tettany
