Grey(A Sad Tale)
I tell a tale I know not, of a dame I knew not, whom like me they know not, in an age we were known not.
It was many, many a year ago that a young lass lived whom ye may know by the name of Jasmine Désolé. She lived with no other thought but to love and be loved in return. Sadly, this was not the case of her life, nor the purpose of her miserable existence. Though at the time she thought she was born by love to love and be loved. In no time, a cynic emerged as life viewed through a prism reflected an iridescence of ugly greys. In a kingdom called MIND, she was queen and king the same, the world was mean, her mind kinder. So for the rest of her days she lived in her head. She had no friends. And though a beauty, no lover. Her first kiss opened her to an array of creatures called MEN. But as each frog turned into a prince, they fled the scene as with the speed of lightning being chased by sound. Jasmine was opened and welcomed to a palace called SADNESS whose chef was named DEPRESSION. She ate and ate and in no time, she was robust and drowning in a river anciently known as LONELINESS. Time built her a tunnel and all her massively wrong choices shut its door. Sitting on the floor sobbing quietly to her maker many, many a year before this year, Jasmine pondered on why life was so meaningless to her and why at no point had the lines fallen unto her in pleasant places. She felt like a fish outside water; death being water and life the shore. It marked the beginning of ten or most likely more attempts to exit earth. After each attempt she dusted her feet and saw life as a rainbow. In few months, the novelty wore off and life went back to normal - grey. She ran from home when she fell short of their expectation to a land in which she knew no one nor anyone her and when she finally returned home to a family with adjusted expectations, she ran again to a different land with the same tale. Sadness had filled her soul and her eyes were the only window of escape.
If you ever see Jasmine Désolé in the world unnamed, you will know her by her big large brown eyes which bookmark sorrow. These eyes once browsed across a threnody by a great poet and rained heavily at the words:
'Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host
That loiters round the crystal coast,
Could stoop to heal that only child'. She had the heart of a child and often wondered why God had never stooped to help her. On this one fateful day however, she sat on her balcony, stared into her past and all she had ever been. She thought for hours. Then drugged herself to kick the bucket. And for the next five days, the bucket lay stone cold. Her mum held her cold feet as she lay motionless on the hospital bed and with a hundred teardrops prayed. Two thousand hands of a thousand angels tried to resuscitate her. Four thousand teardrops of the thousand angels kept her body warm. On the fifth day she came back to life with the breath of God and a phrase that said: 'This isn't everything you are.'
Days and months and years went by, all acquaintances had become strangers, 'possibilities' made nothing. And on one busy day, noise gave way to silence as she declared 'I DO NOT BELIEVE IN GOD'. An extremist by all makings she was, as she swung from full faith in God to utter disbelief in his ability. God had smiled but frayed her days. She was a light to others but knew it not, the light she shone on others cast a shadow on her own life. If tears were a trophy she'd have a fountain. If life were a choice, she'd choose death over and over again. Nothing worked nor made sense. She wished she knew, at any point knew, how life should be lived. She sought not love anymore, neither knew how to. Aches and pains and loneliness and regrets and all her baggages transmogrified into one giant molten scar known as her. No more hopes, no more dreams. She strolled through earth, to fulfill her days, having but one hope and one only. That one day in her walk through the world, she'd stumble into a garden that was bursting into life. On her tombstone it was written: 'One thing lingers, love remains love. And if ever you're unsure, just remember, God remains God'. As all whose lives her light had touched gathered in their thousands, it rained and poured. All stood still and cried and poured. Tears and rain, her journey's tale. Many and many a time had she walked in the rain and cried with it. She loved rain, she loved God, she loved...
I write a tale I know not, of a dame who knew me not, whom like me they know not, in an age we are not known.
It was many, many a year ago that a young lass lived whom ye may know by the name of Jasmine Désolé.
poem by Jenim Dibie
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
