It’s a warm day with cold undertones, the sun is playing hide and seek with the clouds. Nenet lies on her bed with light grey bedding. She is wearing only an oversized thick army green t-shirt and black with grey accented knickers. Next to the bed is a small side table. On top of the table is an ashtray and a box of cigarettes; Nenet reaches for the box and lights one single. She inhales deeply then a waterfall forms at the corners of her eyes. A tear drops – she quickly wipes it away and fixes her lips to speak. Before a word can escape the bounds of her mouth, she exhales the smoke instead. She takes another drag, sits on the bed now with her legs crossed the way little kids sit and cross their legs while watching cartoons – engulfed and attentive. She reaches for the ashtray, kills the cigarette, her eyes were completely dry now. She takes a deep breath and witnesses her blink dissolve into a conversation she wishes she could have with one of the higher powers, if they really exist.
You gods have a cruel sense of humour. You give me love and I cannot submerge in it. You just watch as the world becomes so ill; people are angry and irrational, rightfully so. Poverty brews hysteria while discrimination and oppression lead to protests and uprisings.
[Pauses for a while and becomes sad]
I wanted to sit here and just be in love today. I wanted to write love poems all day and make love all night indulging in the moonlight’s dew. I wanted the merging, submerging and metamorphosis of souls without worrying so-regressively-much about tomorrow but reveling in the objectification of emotion and the art that could be him and I right now and forever. I wanted a moment to escape the commotion but you’ve handed me a life full of silent commotion and thriving dis-ease.
Frowning all the way to work dreading this new form of slavery we’re suppose to perceive as good fortune. Fighting temptations to burst into tears while stuck in traffic rushing to place we are reminded how much the world doesn’t want us even though we keep fighting to be here and to matter. Being fed these peanuts that are suppose to convince us we’re doing better than most folks when we are all really mice chasing after the same piece of cheese. The same piece of cheese strategically placed there to keep us hungry and needy.
These strategists build phantom walls, blinders and chains in our minds that we fix on ourselves every morning preventing us from seeing a clear way out. Sitting at our oppressive desks thinking of the best and fastest way to get the biggest piece of cheese while the fat rat throws crumbs at us and we momentarily rejoice and buy new shoes. Until Friday stops feeling like the weekend is a nice break but just the cycle repeating itself till we find an effective way to break free and liberate ourselves.
To break free and liberate ourselves instead of always nearing implosion every waking moment and fighting the urges to burn our bodies so our souls may taste true freedom … Our souls can taste freedom … Then maybe instead of this pain made better by intangible moments of love we cannot fully submerge in, we would have a quality of love that is uninterrupted by the world’s ills. Where the state of the world matters not and only love matters most. Where love is the question, the source, the answer and the cure. [Sad again] But you gods have a cruel sense of humour. You give us fragments of love we cannot submerge in and let the world make us doubt the importance, let alone the existence, of love. From the earth shattering romantic to the basic human compassion and affection – you watch the world crumble and ills manifest themselves in the form of homeless people sleeping out in the cold in a row like they did on slave ships.
Nenet falls back on the bed and opens her eyes. The white ceiling now looks pink from the distortion of her eyes. She tries to convince herself to smile but the corner of her right eye lets out a drop of water as if to sigh. She tries to reach for the box of cigarettes but tosses it on the floor instead. She then places her hand on her lower abdomen, caresses it and listens as if she is waiting for an answer. She blinks sleepily and gradually drifts into what feels like a light nap to the human conscious but another realm to the conscious mind. After what feels like hours but has just been earthly minutes, she awakens and recalls this dialogue…
Ramses, if we are the gods why am I the only one lost when you and Ra seem to have all the answers?
You stopped seeing your own power and light. Now you rub the walls of my sanctuary as if you’re helpless and lost when you need yourself more than I need you or you need me.
I’m going to disappear.
Only if you remain lost, stay helpless and keep hiding your god-fulness from yourself.