Knock! Knock!

The sound on the door kept repeating. I could hear his heart beat like the drums of war.

The aura in the room was like a graveyard.

“Who is there?” I asked, searching with curiosity.

“Clothes,” the little voice mumbled.

Fear, pain, rejection, desperation, guilt, regret, and hate were all I could hear from the tiny voice.

Knock! Knock!!

I heard it again, but this time I wanted to be sure I heard correctly.

“Who is that?” I asked again.

“Home,” the voice said.

Anger, greed, violence, and jealousy were all I could hear from this desperate soul.

Knock! Knock!!!

This time louder than the blast that came from the guns of hopeless hunters.

This time calmer than the stillness by the river's side.

“Who is that?” I asked again.

“Hunger” the voice screeched.

Dreams scattered, hope lost, and uncertainties were all I could hear from this wandering soul.

Knock! Knock!

I heard again.

This time, it sounded more human...

Perhaps that of a homeless child.

“Who are you? “I asked.

“Reflection,” the voice muttered.

I am the reflection of the little boy who was buried without clothes.

I am the reflection of the little boy who was deprived of a chance to be home.

I am the reflection of the little boy who was left hungry to die.

I am the reflection of those whose dreams were stolen from him.

I am the reflection of him who wants his voice to be heard.

The reflection of him who lives within you.

I am you!

Look in the mirror.

Does the skin you wear fit?

Do the shoes you wear not hurt?

Then why have you chosen to ignore me?

And put on a stranger’s clothes?

I am that child behind the curtains who needs to be heard.



© Joyce Godswill