Sunday, July 1, 2018




I am she who runs alone
To a destination unknown.
In a maze of empty streets
I try to outrun the beasts
That tear me inside.
I run without respite,
If I stop, folly will engulf me.
My only choice is to flee
While the voices in my head
Fill me with dread,
They know they’ll soon be freed,
They want to see me bleed.
They urge me on,
Laughing. I won’t last till dawn,
I’ll surrender to my madness,
Slowly descend into blackness
Merging the future and the past
Where I will rest in peace at last.


I had a dream once. Oh, it was nothing really,
Not a big dream like Martin Luther King's,
No, it was just a little dream of times happy,
Slow days and laughter that summer brings.

A tiny white house bathed in morning sunshine,
A sleeping dog by the front door, not bothered.
In the meadow nearby, clothes drying on a line,
Swaying gently in the wind as the air grew hotter.

Then, there would be him, dark and handsome coming
Back while children ran up to him screaming with glee.
He'd scoop one or two in his arms, his eyes laughing,
Winking at me as I busied myself with the evening tea.

This was long ago, I don't dream anymore, no, not this.
Years have passed, there is no house, no dog, no him.
Everything is blurred in my memory, I simply dismiss
It as a silly dream without pretension, a childhood whim.


The old chest beckoned me in the soft evening glow.
Left on my own in this ancient house, I had searched
In vain for some amusement till I came to follow
A hidden stair to an old room with a ceiling arched.
I knelt by the chest and broke the rusty lock with ease.
I hesitated, remembering Pandora's Box and its evils.
But curiosity got the better of me, I needed to appease
The longing to know, regardless of releasing any upheavals.
Inside, I found only a few letters yellowed with time and age.
Without shame, I unfolded the first one and started reading:

''My Love, a lifelong of unhappiness far from you is the wage
For my sins. For I will never regret knowing you and loving
You. This was my fate and I gladly accept it though I suffer.
But it was never about my happiness, it was about yours.
We meet when we were both in need of healing and care,
In each other's arms we discovered solace and other shores.
I gave my eyes for you to see how beautiful you were,
I lent you my heart to show you how much you were loved.
Your soul, as pure and rare as the black pearl in an oyster
Sought and soothed mine often when I was feeling unloved.
Alas, happiness was not for me, I knew I would have to sacrifice
My life for yours. In my heart there was never any question,
Your road was open and mine closed, I would pay the price
Gladly to save you from yourself without a chance of redemption.
O my love, my heart still aches every day, you are not a memory,
A moment in time but a part of my soul that can never heal...''

The last part of the letter was missing but my tears now fell freely
For the one who wrote it, her sense of loss so deep, I could feel.
The evening had grown dark, threatening. Was it a dream?
I realised that this ruined house was the ghost of a love long lost.
I travelled in time, other ages, her story is now my own to redeem,
My own Pandora's Box. Suddenly, my heart feels cold, drowned in frost.


FRANCINE SAMUEL: Long ago, in a small French village lived an eleven year old girl who couldn’t speak properly. Whenever she wanted to say something, she stammered and people would laugh and point at her, mocking her. For many years, she felt she had no voice, no rights until she discovered that it did not really matter as long as she could write. Francine Samuel is that little girl. She writes for those who feel they can’t express themselves.  Her goal is to inspire people, mostly women, to find the inner courage to achieve their dreams. Francine Samuel explores the issues of depression and suicide, child and women abuse at the hands of those who abuse their powers. She is against anyone, any establishment which prevent women from flourishing as women and as spiritual beings. She describes herself as politically incorrect and a misfit. She writes under the agender name of FSamuel, which is after all, only a pseudonym.

No comments :

Post a Comment