THE SEASON OF THE SECOND ME

In order to survive
I birthed another me
Long long ago

When the first feels disoriented
I pull him back
And let out the second

The second is uncontrolled
Full of propensities
And hungry to do it all

But he’s all I’ve got
Suicide is not an option
The journey’s not over yet.

– Che Chidi Chukwumerije.

2 thoughts on “THE SEASON OF THE SECOND ME

  1. The starburst of light swells, glowing the page that flips to tell its story…

    An upturned face gazed at the sunlit firmament on whose surface glittered myriad shafts of evolving colors. Eyed closed, the young girl was enraptured by an invisible delight fortified by the gentle wind that endeared her skin in warming caress. Occasionally cracking her eye lids, upon catching a glimpse at the panoramic beauty of Nature’s infinite space, a smile of lovely gratitude fleeted across her face. A flower nestled on the ear, adding its unique luster to the glimmering incandescence of the moment. Her mother was inside the store, hustling and bustling in a frenzied pace to fulfill a self-imposed timeline of activities. But the young girl preferred the open air, the simple stillness of the outdoors that provoked equanimity of mind. She held a canvas, adoring the wonderful painting that evoked joy within. Moments past to find her mother standing by her daughter. The mother was slightly perturbed as she gazed upon her daughter who always seemed lost in enchantment over some minor irrelevance.
    “Alice will you not wake up and pay attention to your surroundings? You are always lost in a dream world!” her mother scolded
    “Mother, I am just enjoying the gifts nature offers.” the daughter responded
    “Whatever that means. Gifts cost money so unless you have money to buy gifts, you should focus on helping the person who has the money, instead of losing yourself in childish whims.” the mother retorted
    Allowing the comments to bypass her ears, the girl asked “Mom, will you please buy this beautiful painting for me? I promise to pay you back through other means!”
    “Alice, this is not a painting, it is just a blank canvas, empty space, with not even one splash of color. Surely this is a waste of money!” the mother said.
    “Ah! mother, see, it is you who sleeps!” the daughter responded with a waving of the hand encouraging her mother to stare closer at the title.
    Focusing the eyes intently, furrows soon lined the mothers face in bewilderment as the daughter just smiled brightly.
    The title read: “The Minds Mirror”

    I just thought to contribute a little ray to the cascading falls of your website. Keep it up.

    Like

    1. Ikenna!
      Thanks a lot. I quite enjoyed reading the story very much. The concept is magnificent and very relevant in these time in which we live! 🙂
      Hope we stay in touch so we can have conversations on literature and life.
      Wishing you all the best – and never stop walking up that Mountain! 🙂
      Have a nice Saturday.

      Like

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