dark and light

On the dark side lies loneliness, wasted moments, absolute silence.

My name forgotten, lost in too many passport stamps without a home.

My deeds a vague reference at school and family reunions over cold chicken and diluted beer.

“Such a pity that she never settled down.”

A bend-over posture, barren womb never visited, sagged breasts shriveled―wasted fruitfullness

An endless ache in my chest from decades of stifled weeping before falling into solitary sleep.

Opportunities noted but a life unspent.

Years of learning but no reproduction of ideas.

Needs felt but no change induced.

Dim hopelessness fogs up thick lenses as I exhale into my mug of watery broth. Shackingly settling down my tea on a bleached table cloth still wishing for somebody in my room to share my fading memories with. Arthritis fingers pulling at a pale shawl that reeks of cat pee.

“May I take out those dead flowers now, Miss Wessels? The water is beginning to rot.”

Where the sun shines fullness of life explodes, dust twirls into spirals where my soles land, golden strands of hair flying in the air.

Serenity among foreign peoples, sunsets over every ocean, tastes from every spice and drink.

I know a tale behind every flag flapping at the UN headquarters, left a footprint on each country on the map.

Traveled in all modes conceivable―hot air balloon, snow sleigh, camel caravan.

Survived each danger in their ecozones―crocs and elephant on moccoros in Africa, immigration officers in airports and train stations, pirates and storms at sea.

Experienced the raw elements of God’s creation―rain drops echoing on large leaves in the Amazon, smelled the imminent rain over the Serengeti savannah, rocked to sleep by the rhythmic swells of the oceans.

“Thank you Sir. May I see your inoculation record also, Mama?”

Where I dream of this existence, two hairy arms wrap around my rib cage regularly, jungle stubble scratch my sun-kissed cheeks.

There I am one of two called us.

Together we fight to get kids to sleep at night.

Outlasting waves of thundering footsteps along the kitchen cupboards.

Wiping butts and kissing knees.

Multiplying our clan’s shared legacy of adventure, passion and beauty.

“What about spending Christmas with your parents this year sweetie?”