Soundlessly she moved through the hallway
If she was lucky, no one would see her either
Life as a ghost would be so much easier
Everyone would never see you, but the watery image you projected into the real world
Not that she wanted to give them even that.
Couldn’t they make her position remote and never have her speak to anyone?
Entering her classroom she pasted on a smile and said, “Good morning children.”
Focusing on falling and missing the ground
Little Johnny jumped into the air
Yet gravity had other ideas
Cooking the lights out every night was her goal in life
Harvesting awesome flavors from every ingredient she touched
Extreme foodies would travel from halfway around the world to sample her dishes
Focusing on that dream, the six-year-old watched her mom boil water
Pushing her to her limit
Only she couldn’t react
Knowing it would just encourage him
Except he was so cute when his pudgy toddler finger pushed her tummy and he squeaked …
Putting more things on the other things
It kept getting taller and taller
Letting him get more and more excited
Except when it all came crashing down and down when Mom came in
Been yanking on his face hairs since she was a wee little babe
Every day was a repeat of the last, and he loved every minute of it
And yet, one day she decided she was too old to do it anymore
Reaching for his own face hairs, he gave them a tug
Damn that hurt. It just wasn’t the same.
What seemed so light moments before threatened to pull her down into the depths of despair
Every time it happened it took so much strength to try to pick up the pieces and try to move on
It was no use. She broke.
Giving way to the gravity of it all, she sunk to the floor
Her eyes teared up, the heavy drops of water falling
They were children!
Reaching into the sack, he handed his daughter a small potato
And her look of disappointment hurt his heart so much
That was the best he could do, at least she would have something in her tummy tonight
If he could do more, he would
Only if he gave her more now, she would go without later that week
Now to bully his hunger into being quiet until he got her to bed
Couldn’t stand being put in one when she was young
Objecting to the degrading idea of facing the epitome of a box
Realizing she never wanted to be inside that construct ever again
Now she does her own thing while society fiddles and burns
Energized knowing she is living her best life
Regretting that the rest of humanity decided not to follow her and stayed in the …
How many bunnies would she see in the morning?
Or maybe baby chicks wandering the yard
Perhaps she would see neither, but their chocolate and jellybean relics will remain
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Never Short On Words 
