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The place with no sky
I do have memories of my mother and even vague ones of my family but it’s my beautiful mother’s face I see in my dreams... and in my nightmares.
As much as I love remembering her, I dread it too.
What happened that day was so unexpected..so sudden and so horrifically violent, that those terrible memories were interwoven with the good ones, as though an ink pot had tipped over..spilling bright red blood instead of ink, forever staining the memories of my mother’s face.
The feeling of being held in her arms as she stroked my brow gently, her soft motherly touch.
I felt safe, warm and loved. I remember a bird flew overhead, a perfect silhouette against the azure sky.. rustling sounds of a tree my cousins played in nearby...
Then the screaming
The panic ..screams of terror and pain, manic confusion as family members ran in all directions
Pandemonium, the flash of silver and a ‘Ching!’ sound like when the villagers cut down a banyan leaf, my mother trying to hold me against her suddenly warm sticky breast, I kept slipping and she couldn’t hold me.. then i saw why...her hand.. lying in the bloodied grass with one finger still outstretched as if to stroke my head one last time.
I couldn’t understand this, couldn’t get my mind to fathom how mother’s hand could be lying over there in the grass, she wasn’t moving but still I held on..
Then...darkness.
He opened his eyes to see the same four walls
The same concrete place with no sky.
They brought him here that awful day (it took two men to prise him from his dead mother) the image made him feel bad, remembering his mother’s face made him feel bad and he hated them for this.
The tray of flyblown fruit lay where the grey jailer had left it..uneaten unwanted again.
He was dying you see.
Old age happens faster to those who are imprisoned, the hopelessness, the loneliness, it takes a toll on the prisoner and he had been a prisoner here for far too long.
He closed his eyes for the last time.
Sentenced to life because he was cute and appealing.
Sentenced to life for people to gawp at
Sentenced to life for financial gain
He was a victim of his own beauty and his lovely mother ?
They made an ashtray from her lovely hand.
Her life was worth... an ashtray.
#drjanegoodall
#humansarenonsters
#animalsbeforepeople
© katMad
As much as I love remembering her, I dread it too.
What happened that day was so unexpected..so sudden and so horrifically violent, that those terrible memories were interwoven with the good ones, as though an ink pot had tipped over..spilling bright red blood instead of ink, forever staining the memories of my mother’s face.
The feeling of being held in her arms as she stroked my brow gently, her soft motherly touch.
I felt safe, warm and loved. I remember a bird flew overhead, a perfect silhouette against the azure sky.. rustling sounds of a tree my cousins played in nearby...
Then the screaming
The panic ..screams of terror and pain, manic confusion as family members ran in all directions
Pandemonium, the flash of silver and a ‘Ching!’ sound like when the villagers cut down a banyan leaf, my mother trying to hold me against her suddenly warm sticky breast, I kept slipping and she couldn’t hold me.. then i saw why...her hand.. lying in the bloodied grass with one finger still outstretched as if to stroke my head one last time.
I couldn’t understand this, couldn’t get my mind to fathom how mother’s hand could be lying over there in the grass, she wasn’t moving but still I held on..
Then...darkness.
He opened his eyes to see the same four walls
The same concrete place with no sky.
They brought him here that awful day (it took two men to prise him from his dead mother) the image made him feel bad, remembering his mother’s face made him feel bad and he hated them for this.
The tray of flyblown fruit lay where the grey jailer had left it..uneaten unwanted again.
He was dying you see.
Old age happens faster to those who are imprisoned, the hopelessness, the loneliness, it takes a toll on the prisoner and he had been a prisoner here for far too long.
He closed his eyes for the last time.
Sentenced to life because he was cute and appealing.
Sentenced to life for people to gawp at
Sentenced to life for financial gain
He was a victim of his own beauty and his lovely mother ?
They made an ashtray from her lovely hand.
Her life was worth... an ashtray.
#drjanegoodall
#humansarenonsters
#animalsbeforepeople
© katMad
