The thing about pain
Is that it spreads. Are you hurt?
Well, very soon, I’ll probably be hurt too.
Does the pain seem to encroach your mind? Climb up the fences of your fears.
Uncovering your inadequacies, revealing your failures.
They symbolize everything we said we would not become.
First we thought we were evolving.
We now realize the ocean was too long. Or was it too wide?
Can we start again? we thought. A patch here, a thread there. could it, would it do the trick?
Like a thud, like a bang like a roar of thunder. And yet we never heard it.
Picture perfect, everyone with their part to play. For a while we all stuck to the acts, the scenes. We nailed it. Hollywood, Grammy award winning, or so we thought.
Who forgot their line? Was it about the key? Whose iro and buba came loose? Or was it the headpiece? Your agbada I thought could hide so well the wickedness of your heart.
But truth came to visit and we were all unrehearsed for our parts, we stood waiting, motionless, had we been found out?
Picture perfect had a crack, it was small, or so we thought. Could one crack bring everything to a shattering halt? Halt. Halt. Halt. We screamed the mantra maybe it would bring meaning. We were so lost, so unprepared. Our lips mumbled and fumbled but our hearts bore what our minds had known all along.
Truth had arrived and now the jig was up.
Take a long breath—breath, just breath. Make it natural, c’mon, natural.
“Cut!” you shouted, you knew. The act was over. We wondered how we could continue.
Each of us had tailored our identities to pretence.
We remeberd the crack. One crack, or so we thought. The crack had become a narrow black hole. Your fila flew in and you followed. Could it be? That you were finally gone. They say life begins with the end of another.
We had thought we were evolving but the real metamorphis began when you ended.
The thing about pain is that it spreads.
Let us be who we are, I remembered Truth had warned.