Palms clenched tight nails digging in
Flashes from the past replay over and over again.
Each whip, each and every crack of the whip,
whistles through the air and in my mind
I can still hear it
The cracks of pain
pain, pain that transcends time as it’s replayed
out on a screen, but it feels so real.
Brought back to life ghosts of the past begin to
haunt, a new time and place.
And the sad thing is, it’s not all over.
New eras, new pains and the rather
– it’s best left unknowns-
continue to be swept under the metaphorical carpet.
Seeing those wounds, raw, no hiding.
To know that for many no hope was lost because
there was never any to find
Dreams remained just so… intangible
In my mind, that could have been me there
Breaking backs in the scorching heat
getting marked with the tessellations of scars
where the only spirit left in you is a soulful serenade to the rolling wind
imagine if those songs were still carried on that breeze for you to hear now.
And you begin to think.
Here I am complaining about the ‘mundane’
having to meet deadlines and sit exams
that I have a chance, one they never would’ve imagined.
I can write and create and express myself
whenever I please
I am relatively free
I am not chattel nor a plaything, made to dance
to the whims of the broken and blind.
I can create, I have an identity
Choices, simple choices that they didn’t have and
Sadly, that many still don’t have.
And reality is sadly put into perspective, because
for those two hours it was raw and stark.
But as the lights go up suddenly,
people slipping on their coats and scarves
as if it’s armour, rushing to get the tube home…
The reality is sadly put into perspective
as I sit here crying.