THE LADY; HER FEAR, HER TRAGEDY

                She is caring, she is peaceful, she is open, she is loved by many, she is full with good, could be stubborn, but she is respectful, she is understandable because I do understand her, she is intelligent, she has this charisma you always hope to get in a lady.

She is fair, she is tall, she worth far than the regular ladies. She isn’t the regular church girl you see, but her person is a close synonym to the word holy. She is like an egg, the rare kind of egg, everyone just wants to have her to their side, and everyone wants to get a taste of her. She is tender hearted, her yoke is light to any man, she is kind, she is nice, and she is very good, very, very good, not until...

The egg broke;

                This can’t be, the egg is too good as an egg to be broken, but the egg breaking is not the problem. Eggs break all the time right? My problem was what came off the egg. Was the egg poisoned? Someone must have cracked this lovely egg before her time. Imagine the egg of the Eagle breaking up, only to find a vulture, or an owl in the egg of a dove. Was it that the egg was mixed with bad-rotten eggs? Or, could this egg have been in the wrong hands? No wonder the penguins of Madagascar followed the promiscuous egg with great focus and care. This egg was far precious than that, this egg wasn’t ready to be broken, who broke this egg? Who changed the fate of this egg? Who?

                Now the eagle thinks she is a vulture. The dove feels like it’s cool to be an owl, so she starts getting comfortable with the dark and her heart is getting covered with a thick cloud of darkness. She feels she sees well in the dark, and feels she is in absolute control. Of course the eyes have gone wide and wild no one sees in the dark any better. She feels comfortable with the skin and brains of a vulture, so she chases lesser meals. The truth is, she takes every carcass she sees, and preys on it. The funny thing is you can’t tell her not to eat the dead food, because she knows it’s dead. We both know it’s dead, we both know it’s that first dead-man-food that made her what she now is.

                This fact only shows she knows she is actually a dove, and she is of the eagle. Every once in a while she feels her true person, her true nature, but she won’t act it, she won’t dare act it. Though she is somehow scared of what lies ahead her, not that she shows it; but i know it. I know it much as i know she feels fear in becoming the person who she really is. We both know the night is getting darker and darker and there is no morning in sight. We both know how ugly things her turning out to be. She knows she needs to take a second thought about this. She sees the red light, but fear won’t let her turn back. She says she can take care of herself, we both know she can’t.

                Who i am doesn’t matter. I am not an angel, I am not a saint, I am no God, i am no judge. I am just a person, a friend who believes in the good in her, who is ready to stand with her till she gets back the path of the morning. I am that person ready to ignore the time and support till we find the route back.

                Who is she? Her name doesn’t matter; she answers whatever I call her. She answers when I call. She needs help. Behind the grey-dark, ugly and wicked mask is a good person. She is white in the inside, only her face is covered with the black mask.  She is better than what you see; she needs someone to find her heart back. She needs help.

WRITTEN BY EGWU EMMANUEL .O