Voices from the Past

The kettle whistles silently…
The current of air above stop short in their blades…
The screams of children down the suburban streets seem to fade away into a chasm of reechoing lullabies…

My eyes are going for a spin….
My thoughts are absconding from my head till I can feel no pulse left in my heart.
My body disintegrates before my alive eyes.

My spirit evacuates my limp body and takes flight to the air of the room.
I try to open my lips and request for a reentry but they are too heavy.

My eyes follow the mist of me…
Plunging from the windows of my condo and into the night’s air.

…and we are back to where it all began.
The godforsaken house in whose basement I was born and fed.
My silhouette shadow beckoned and my eyes followed closely.

Little me of not less than five long, hard moons sat wild-eyed on the mirror; the wick of the lantern adding a glow of orange and red to my chubby cheeks.

Mama stood massaging oil into my hair.
“No matter what happens, never forget to smile and always be happy.”

Heavy boots angrily thumped on the stairs of the basement.
The little version of me flinched; Mama grabbed her, cushioning her on the furs of the sheets.

“Close your eyes and shut your eyes, my child!”
I never did…I watched Papa drag her away.
It was the last time I would see her!

My misty shadow spoke for the first time through our journey to the past:
“No matter what happens, never forget to smile and always be happy.”

I jerked awake and for the first time realized that I was a lonely thirty-year old woman with cats for companion.

I chose not to be defined by her last screams but by her last words…
A voice from the past is here now to show me how to be steadfast.

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