BUTTERFLIES I N THE DARK

loss

No matter how much we try we cannot fight death, it will always come knocking as it has for me my child but I leave you this to express yourself for I know in your hands lies a power. When you think of life remember love the earth and cherish the last bits of nature that still live.JUST WRITE.

The mother's punishment comes knocking

Even the innocent tell of its calling

The actions of the past forever following

Every breath taken is of the earth rotting

Many have come many have gone

The earth remains and lives on

Unlike me of course

How do you start writing in a journal? Honestly, I have zero idea so am going to hug you till I fall asleep

LOSS

"Life is a series of partings"

-Charles Dickens-

What is loss? I first got a test of it when the timber company cut down my favourite tree, an African rosewood I loved because I could hug it perfectly and its where Alexi and I put our initials BFFs forever mother slapped me and told me to grow up I was making too much noise I was five. Four years later I experienced my first human loss, I lost Alexi to a robbery shooting. It took me a while to accept and for a while I would still see her walking next to me and urging me on as we returned from school. Most people thought I was crazy I blame my lupus for that.

Is this how mother nature feels every time we take something from her in the guise of development because this feels terrible. When I saw my mother being buried at the public cemetery, a part of me was being buried as well forever. Sure, my mother practiced the old teaching of spare the rod and spoil the child quiet often but this is Africa and its how discipline is enforced plus she was the only relation I had on planet earth and thus I love her to bits.

Was I surprised? Well, when the deputy called me from class, I was thrilled to escape the sounds of the geography teacher's lullaby but when she led me to my land lord, I knew I had to accept the inevitable and wished I had just stayed in class. Mama had refused treatment, she preferred paying for my fees instead insisting that treatment may lengthen her existence but she would die eventually it was better to just accept it.

"I am so sorry Laxmi" I doubt I'll ever forget those words; they signalled the beginning of all chaos.

Why am I writing this? To express the hurt growing inside me I would hire a therapist but I can't afford that. This journal is the only thing mama left me and as pathetic as that sounds, I have to accept it. As I watched her disappearing into the earth, I remembered her words "big girls don't cry, at least not in public if you do your letting them win" I've always wondered who them is and honestly, I may never know. I have loads to figure out on my own starting with getting a job, school is forgotten now.