Dear Doe,

Remember when warmth and solace was in the hands of solitude, when tears became laughter ~ when it’s so spontaneous, flowing like a river that has mastered its course. . . Remember when I was so good at watching tears trickle, enjoying the salty taste of my own tears like some crunchy dessert of chocolate cake and flaxseed toppings. . . I got used to pain and I loved it. I got used to knowing I am like a seasoned actor who wields her weeping prowess better than the other. . . What’s the use of trying to remember a pain in memory so I could cry? What’s the use of sniffing Rubb when tears was a stone throw? You know me *winks* I could always cry even though I was born a smiling baby. . . I was my Director’s muse even though I wasn’t the highest paid actress. . . Life is ironical my ‘J’ Doe. . . when tears bring no money but steal the little you have!

But these days, it feels like drought. Drought has visited a portion of the stream and I could feel dryness all over. I could feel the sun slamming her hot tongue unto my wet zone and licking it to hot-dryness. . . I could see my Director stealing glances at another wanna-be ‘rain-maker’ like me. . . she was just as good but not as good. I felt jealous like a woman abandoned for a younger version of hers. For a moment, the jealous feeling had made me ask myself why I lust after work when I could rest. . .

Sometimes we despise the blessings we pray for with our minds. . . the requests we couldn’t give utterance but our minds helped to ask. What other greater curse could there be than to watch drought lick off a part of me to dryness yet I breathe? Where would I borrow from to shed my tears of joy when it comes? Life has taught me over and over the formula of everyman for himself . . . That people are users leaving you to refill yourself to be used again. . .

Don’t clog the process Doe! . . . You know those lessons were taken everywhere we go. . . we try to create walls as high as that of Jericho. . . we want to feel invincible and not be noticed. . . at times, we wish we have that cloak that makes Merlin unseen; wanting no one in our business but you know you have to unlearn that.

Not every human wings are beautiful, only the right ones are! . . . The right ones chases drought away and teaches you how not to  manipulate the beauty in your tears. . . they hold you by the arm and tell you it’s alright, it doesn’t matter how you feel. They need you to believe the right things about you and not what you think is shaking you. . . they show you how to love every part of you, every fibre of your being and how to love that good thing you see as a weakness!

I knew I found it when I did. . . Have you ever had a long phone conversation with someone and not one strand of that conversion was a gossip about other people? that is a prerequisite cos it does matter! Yea, I have. . . I know them; my human wings. . .

Human wings are so beautiful. They radiate energy and strength. . . nothing about you breaks them. Those wings are warm, smooth to touch and loving.

Good energy is contagious dear Doe. . . I’m flying on human wings and it’s the best feeling ever. . . I know you feel all these things but I can give your feelings utterance. . . allow me to. . . don’t shut it all out! You never can know the value of a small circle until you abandon your large circle.

I care about you. . .

Savour my quote till I write you again;

“Not every human wings are beautiful. Only the right ones are.” ~ Ibukunwrites