A rainbow of life's happenings - part 2

White petals of sorrow

This is a personal account of written works that I have collected over the years. All I share on here is from the heart that in turn, may cause you to know me better. Perhaps as a person who has fears, tears, dreams and love just like you. This piece is something that relates to May 14, 1984. I was 14 at the this time. I write this as I remember how I felt. To go back in time is excruciating but necessary so to bring this to the surface to acknowledge, learn & pass it on.

Rain washed my hair and slowly drizzled its way down to my feet. I looked to the sky in search of my ever so loyal clouds and they weren't there. It was grey and cold. I felt sad. I looked down to my feet and saw that my once beautiful red patent shoes have now become wet and grey. Where was the shine in them? I was searching for my reflection in my shoes. I lost it. It rained and rained for what seemed forever. My face was continuously wet. I made not a sound. Silently, I wiped my face.

Breathing.

Am I breathing? I reached for my heart.

'Are you sure you are breathing?' I asked myself. I check again.  I looked above my head to the sky, searching still for my clouds. No sign of them I began to panic. My head hurt. I wanted to scream. I didn't.

As I looked around me I saw faces that I recognised. They had me hypnotised. I felt love from them. I knew they were here for me. They made me feel safe. Yet it was a feeling I had never felt before. I welcomed their hugs and even their kisses. Soft music flowed from their mouths. I did not speak. I listened. I lay in bed and turned to face the wall. I closed my eyes and felt her wrap her petals around me, I knew I will feel her again. After all, I promised her eternal love. She whispered sweet words of goodnight into my ears and there she stayed beside me while I dreamed of cool fresh water.

That was the first day of my new life.

All the days that were behind me were only just a memory, There were sliding in and out of my young head like an antique picture projector. Flickers of light were flashing behind my tired eyes and the bruises of a comma were numbing my head. Pounding harder and harder until I feel nothing. No modern medicine could have helped me ease this excruciating discomfort I was experiencing in my head at that moment.

My shoulders were as if there were bricks of metal laid on them. They caused me to lose balance and tip forward on my face way too often. My heart, well, there were times when I thought I no longer had one as it was beating infrequently to a tune that I do not recognise. My chest was heavier than ever before. My abdomen felt like I was braced in leather straps and forced to make my way out of them. I did not struggle for I had no strength to retaliate. I was not able to move in the direction that I wanted my legs to walk. They kept making their way into a house that was not mine. Into a bed that was not warm. To a shower that did not cleanse me. They led me to stay within walls that did not live the same as I did.

As I looked around I noticed that these walls did not breathe as I did. The blood that ran through its foundation was not as hot and smooth as mine. The voices were of phantoms whose faces were covered in masks. Those masks were hard, no expression and not definitely no smile. Noises which were more like screeching were echoing around these walls and went right through me almost knocking me over to the floor.

The stench of dampness eventually settled on the bodies of the masked phantoms until they knew no other way to behave. Over and over the days will pass by very much in this same way for what seemed like days will pass by very much in this same way for what seemed like forever. I did not find any way that I could possibly have settled in to this new way of life. I remember telling myself that this would not be for very long as she will return for me.

I lay in bed and replayed the night in my head several times until I was exhausted. Over and over I would remember how I felt, how I touched that soft white flower, how I was waiting for her to come home.

My eyes wonder through the wire mesh bed bunk above me. How it would be just to fly and soar through the sky? Touch those soft clouds. Hugging them with my arms, caressing them with my long delicate young fingers. I ask the clouds 'how much have you seen? How much have you heard?' In return I would hear their response ' I fly with grace. I smile with innocence. I laugh with joy. I cry with warm tears'.

I remain silent with fear. Why? Confusion runs through my veins.

Loud voices.

Hysteria.

Cries.

Doors open.

Doors shut.

Telephone ringing.

Doorbell chiming.

Voices.

Voices.

Voices.

Voices.

EVERYWHERE!

I see my faithful clouds. They now reach for me. They wrap me amongst their soft warm blanket - whispering to me 'Fly little Angel, spread your wings. Love and laughter is what we see and hear'. I felt the presence of something I cannot explain. I remained immobile for quite sometime. Did anyone hear them? I wondered. I carefully looked around. The soft soothing sound of music numbed me again. The sensation of being rescued from all this madness that was surrounding me felt like magic. Was it?

Was it God and his Angels? Oh, I hoped so. Finally, I thought in my naivety I would meet him. These 'angels' whispered to me 'Speak only to us, you are safe'. Following this I rarely spoke. In fact I didn't say much other than bury my head in books and read. I remained faithful to my clouds. Sunshine rays onto my face-'home'. I thought - 'MUM", I cried silently inside my head and heart. Continuous voices echoed through these walls that I was soon to discover was going to be my new home. This was madness. Satan had just made himself comfortable in my life. He wouldn't take any of this back. How dare he cause this? I wanted to yell out, but I knew I wouldn't be heard. I simply breathed and turned around and make my way towards the front garden.

I saw a wilting flower. She was white with green leaves. She seemed so beautiful yet so lost all alone amongst the grass. She seemed to be smiling at me. I knelt beside her and just lay there. The sun's warmth was like the reassuring hug that only a mother can give. Gently swaying in the warm breeze. I let out a giggle as this warmth sat on the tip of my little nose. I dare not brush it away. It smelt of cool fresh water.  'How I want to bathe in this scent', I thought as I closed my eyes.

Voices and echoes of madness filled the background again. I stopped. I turned my head and shrugged. My little flower needed me before the sun went down. So with her I decided to spend the remaining day lying on the soft green grass.

Was it heaven?

I miss my mother every day. Even now as an adult and mother I miss her more. How I wish she can see her grandchildren and hold me when I cry with a broken heart. To exchange stories of love and loss with her.

'Tree of love' - Artwork by Rosa Carrafa