Caught red handed!
She feared for her life,
The old woman who saw her,
Leaving her infant behind.
‘The child you birthed was born in you,
Long before you saw the light of this world.
This is a beautiful but a strange thought,
A force of nature with a free-will of power’.
‘It is also true that history is written forwards,
When one fails to understand, the freedom to change,
The course of life, as it is and that is now,
The hidden second chances we get.’
‘Give me Gloria’ the old woman says,
‘Oh you named her already’ the girl thinks in her head,
‘Yes I did’ says the woman reading her mind,
‘The Promise of Gloria that’s so fine’.
‘The ray of sun, Gloria of my days,
But you have a choice, to leave or to take,
Your destiny before you: a blank slate,
Or a scribbled one to make meaning of.
‘But What shall I do?’ asks the desperate little mother.
‘Go then, but come to this bridge every year,
Today, the first day of the sixth month,
Come see how she grows and bond with her,
She may need you as she matures.’
‘Why are you taking her?
Why are you so kind?
Who are you precious lady?
Are you from the divine?’
‘You wish I was, no but I am not,
I am a childless grandmother,
Abandoned on a full moon night,
Like today, maybe around this time.’
‘Nothing much has changed though,
In this land that hides the secrets,
The long-lived brokenness,
The perpetuated vicious cycle.’
‘But I was fortunate,
I grew up in a family fine,
A lady had picked me up from this bridge,
From a mother undefined.’
‘She then nurtured me to be,
A mother to someone unborn,
For I am barren and they called me cursed,
Perhaps regretted for bailing me out.’
‘But now I know enough,
To bring up this baby birthed,
And repay my debts for what I received,
When I was left to die on this very bridge.’
‘Come now, go to your family,
Give me the child you were leaving behind,
And go live your life, but come back every year,
On the first day of June exactly at this time.’
‘And when you are ready, if you ever will be,
Take her and make her a part of your life,
To erase the possible emptiness,
The pull towards her roots to know her past.’
‘This I promise, that I will look after her,
Like the apple of my eye and more,
She is much like you little mother,
Innocent and beautiful like no other.’.
‘Now don’t cry little girl,
You are merely a child,
I can only imagine what they did to you,
In reviled manly style’.
‘You will miss her for sure, but,
Promises do come true, for the one who waits,
And holds the silence in her heart,
The sadness through and through.
‘You will heal little girl,
Now go quick,
Before it is day light,
You need to cross this bridge.’