First I Tried to Walk in the Footsteps of My Father (part.2)

There I stood alone.
The younger version of me was still there too.
She sat down, crossed legged in the middle of my fathers timeline and looked up at me and asked-
“When will he come back?”
Five words, as heavy as bricks, thrown at me
by my own innocence.
They knocked me off course and of course-
I knew the answer, but did I want to disappoint myself again?
Then I remembered.
The superpower that all children have is hope.
In the middle of distress-
In the middle of nowhere or nothing-
In the middle of this burning forest-
A child can sit and still see the possibility of something re-emerging, alive, from fire and ashes.
She asked me again, this time pulling my left hand harder, “When will he come back?”
I stood her up gently and said, “When people lose their path ,sometimes it’s better that they start off at a new point, a place that was different from where they went off track to begin with. I can’t tell you exactly when, but I know where you can find him again.”
I pointed in the opposite direction of the road towards the future.
Her eyes – were so bright.
So, Bright.
Illuminated with love, hope, dreams- so innocent-
And for a moment, just a moment – I remembered seeing through them.
I remembered how differently the world looked.
My senses were heightened.
I could hear the beauty in life’s chaos.
Despair was a symphony of violins playing in B minor, weeping in unison carrying away tears, pain and prayers to the clouds.
The cracks in the sidewalks were strings on a blues guitar and the footsteps of the crowd played a mix of polyrhythmic jazz octaves , sometimes in A minor-
and I was enamored by it all.
I remembered me.
I hugged my youth , I hugged her and watched as she melted into me.
I had locked her out and there she was- just patiently waiting to return to me.
I was so lost in my thoughts that it took me a while to notice someone was watching from afar.
I walked towards the figure only to be stopped by large pieces of glass in the road.
I had to carefully step in between the pieces of dangerous debris, I had to climb through bushes with sharp thorns.
I thought to myself this road was not meant to be traveled and someone tried their best to hide it.
Then I lost my breath after being kicked in the stomach by instinct.
This was the path of my mother.
I was now walking in the footsteps of my mother.
I tried to get to her.
I was bleeding.
I was in pain .
I had to get to her.
She yelled out, “Please , don’t try to come closer! ”.
Three large rows of barbed wire fencing kept me from fully reaching her.
I watched this younger version of my mother as she sat down on the dirt road, hugging her knees to her chest with one arm and burying something with her bare hand.
Her dress was torn, her feet were covered in mud-
Her face looked like it was permanently tattooed with streaks of tears.
The more she wiped her face, the more streaks would appear and her tears were invisible.
I dropped to my knees and said – “Don’t you want to be free?”
She looked at me and said, “I was left here on purpose. I had to hide in order to survive. I am almost finished burying my feelings, because I don’t want to hurt anymore. This is the only way that I can make it through that path that you just came from.”
I got so mad.
I stood up and yelled-, “ What about love? How are you going to love, how are you going to care- if you keep it all buried here?”
She replied, “Love hurts! Love hurt me. My father hurt me. This world hurts. Nothing is safe.”
I yelled back,” Then you will just hurt others. You will hurt the ones that don’t deserve it. You will destroy your own flesh and blood.”
She stood up and grabbed the barbed wire fence with both of hands and then she showed her palms to me.
There was no blood.
Not one drop.
She said, “ Everything was taken from me, down to the blood that ran in my veins.”
She stared at me in silence and then said,” You look like me , you remind me of someone I saw in the mirror many,many years ago. You look like someone I should know, and if this is so- Please make sure that the curse of this path stops with you. You came from that direction so you know what part of me is left.”
With tears in my eyes I watched her fade into the burning forest.
In a rage I screamed out all the pain I endured for years and years.
It echoed through the burning forest and blew out all of the flames.
Engulfed in all the smoke, I just stood there and cried, because for the first time I understood that my path was my own and It was a path that I was meant to travel alone.
As I approached the start of my path, a woman stood before me.
She was an elder spirit that I only saw from time to time in my dreams.
Her form changes but the warmth in her eyes and smile are always the same.
She put her hand on my shoulder and pointed to the sky and said – child, this is where you came from.
First, I heard the devil betting god and all the other angels that I would not succeed and then
I watched these beautiful beings conversate while they crafted me with the stars.
They said we won’t give her regular eyes of man- we will give her the eyes of a guardian angel.
This way she will always see the beauty in the rough and the love in the swap of hate and hope hidden under despair.
We will gift her the power of an imagination that never dulls even as she ages. She will be special, she will be strong and she will carry the messages that need to be heard and felt by the souls of all those in need.
And I saw this light pass on to me in the womb and I watched my body form and my heart beating and my first cry when I was born.
I continued to walk down my timeline and the memory of the beatings I endured didn’t hurt as much, and the verbal abuse daming my existence didn’t cut as deep.
Because now I understood my purpose was never to suffer , my purpose was to shed light and conquer the darkness.
And I only know this because first I had to walk in the footprints of my father.