There isn’t a body around me. No one I could call mine. No one who could call me his. Seems everything is crouching away from me, cringing its claws into the hollows of self-absorption. I have seen people do that. Forget you! Like you never existed, or existed but only as a background noise.
I remember the swell times I have spent with my brother, sharp as a crystal and clear as a conscience, talking for hours without taking a breath to think. Unending ceaseless talks they were, that would beat time. We would sway into space like a bunch of curious astronauts and explore the unexplored stars. Our imagination – our telescopes. We would throw our nets into the dark, and catch fishes made of twinkles. We didn’t need anybody to guide us. We would learn from our mistakes, learn from our words. Our lips taught us what teachers couldn’t. Hours and hours of invested time that bore only fruits!
As a kid, my mum would often instruct him to hold my hand and never let go. To take care of me always. “Because he is still very young and he doesn’t know the ways of the wicked world.” It sometimes makes me picture it like this:
“Because he is still very young and he doesn’t know the ways of the wicked world.”
It sometimes makes me picture it like this:
I see my mum waving us farewell for a journey I am too scared to take. But I am not alone and not on my own because I have my brother to call the shots. He is on a steed and been instructed to take me with him. I am sitting behind him holding him, with my arms wrapped around his waist. I turn around with a quivered brow and tearful eyes to take one last look at my mother. She is still busy asking him to go slowly and take care of me. That I am still very young and might fall off the horse. She then looks at me and smiles, and mouths, “Hold your brother tighter!” I firm up my grip. The horse takes off and gallops its way into the blue. We enjoy the cool breeze that giggles in our hair. The journey seems everlasting and we keep galloping playing to the rhythm of the gravel.
I am holding him with a comforting heart. The fact that I am not alone on the saddle soothes me. I try to close my eyes as the steed paces harder. Then suddenly I feel myself heaving up. My hand loosening its grip. The horse jumps over a hurdle, and then resumes its journey. But…..But I have fallen. I am on the ground. I am hurt. I am in pain. I can’t open my mouth to tell him that I have been left behind. I try my best to, but I simply can’t. I just make a silent scream, more of a complaint, that my brother has forgotten about me. He is still riding the horse. Still enjoying the gust in his hair. Whilst I sit in the dust the horse made through its tracks. Covered in red and filth.
He got married. Someone dearer walked into his life, and he lost focus. Suddenly I began to wither. Suddenly I began fading away as if I was a puny mote from a cloud of dust caught up in a strong rush. Our ceaseless talks ceased. Our fire simply ran out. My cords cut. I was left to float alone in the space. I was just left stranded. As if he raced the horse too fast, and forgot all about me. Forgot that his waist carried tiny hands that held him with a promise of eternity. My eyes are still complaining: But mom said,
“Take care of your brother!”
I am fallen. I am scared. I am all alone. I guess there comes a time in our lives when we are supposed to feel that way. When people juggle with their priorities and choose someone else to you. I remember the time when I would have blasts with my cronies. Now I often sit in the second seat waiting for my turn to come. I hate that feeling. However honest it might sound I am still a kid waiting to be loved. Waiting for that horse to turn, and come pick me up!