I only pray for healing…for pain to only show through tears in my eyes not in that interminable ache in my heart. I am sick and tired of feeling so empty inside. I am sick and tired of losing ground. I am sick and tired of wanting to scream and not having the voice. I am bleeding, living in a bleeding country with a nation that is bleeding pain and sorrow. We are drained. There is no more anger, no more pain…not even despair. We got drained off of everything, we can no longer be sad for sadness requires some drive that no longer exists.
I was scared that people would feel entitled to things that were not theirs. I was scared they wouldn’t understand or appreciate the circumstances. Now I am scared it makes no difference anymore. It has become so normal to know that you don’t know and won’t know. It has become normal that you can’t plan and can’t predict. It has become normal to be scared and worried all the time. I am really tired of being unable to breathe, not because of the pollution but because of the fear ….and despair. It breaks my heart that I cannot dream.
I had once dreamed of a home… and a family. Now I wonder how selfish it would be to bring a child to that messed up world! How will I live by knowing that I cannot protect them against the brutality of their world? How would I live in peace knowing that I cannot nurture their dreams and give them wings to fly?
If good parenting is all about telling your child that the sky is the limit and good parenting is all about being honest to your child and telling them the truth about their world, what should I do then?
I know that my wings are broken, but shall the legacy I leave behind for my children be sadness, poverty, despair and broken wings? Something inside me still cries; NO! Something inside me still does not want to give up. Something inside me still wants to survive, still wants to make it, something sad and wounded but is not quite broken, not quite useless. My heart still beats a shallow, faint beat. My heart beats say I exist, I belong, I won’t give in to despair. I am tired and I don’t know the way. My mind may wither, my hands may quiver but my soul shall lead me…to my childhood dreams….to give this land its due. And I will move on with doubt and fear accompanying me but I will still move on. I will not declare the death of my soul. I will breathe anyway…through the dust…through the fumes. And if grey is the only colour my eyes are meant to see here on this land…I will still carry on and plant my own garden in the desert and if I can’t, I will plant it on canvas and if I can’t, I will paint it with words and if I fail…. I will close my eyes and dream it….no one can take that away from me. No one can ever take my will to dream away from me. No one can ever taint my dreams grey.
