In memory of a sweet moment adopted by a black naive girl.
Picture gotten from-Blackandyellow
I can’t write from much happiness as the moment is always too overwhelming. Praises upon praises of self gratitude and understanding of one self beyond spaces meant for queens. As for those who fought wars they always won in places where they were less accepted and more accepting of, this is also for you.
They talked about colours, the spectrum, describing people of various beliefs by it. These were my kind of conversations, less filthy and more of good profanity. It was gray yet filled with so much nature. You can nearly lose touch with reality in that place, they said. Mother of unbroken hearts and virgins with so much innocence filled to the brim in its delight. Ignorant yet filled with so much wisdom that could bring elite people to their knees. There was a sense of power and emotions in their talks. I was intrigued.
What do I mean to you? If days were years would you wait until the last for me? Sometimes we choose to redefine the meaning of love. We twitch our own notions to please us and keep us from feeling that our hearts are going the wrong way. Do you also get that kind of feeling? One which is not enough? Sometimes we want the other to think the way we think or even more. We become illusionists.
I stayed there too long wandering why you had made me feel so comfortable at the same time feeling unease about some things I can’t change about the way you spoke. I thought of your conscience, where you had pocketed them. How it is that you feel less after a while. I listened more to the other colours they had described whilst thinking about you. At that point it didn’t feel good anymore. I wanted to listen and think more but I began to feel a soft ray on my skin, it felt warm, forcing my eyelids to open.
The conversation, the people and the events were all in my thoughts, I had made them up. I was by myself but I truly wasn’t. The best part of it all was seeing the last colour consciously, yellow. Sun. Whether you think it’s triggered by experiences or mere imaginations, I just wrote to set myself free. Truth
Dyna Ekwueme Copyright, 2016.