It’s like staring at a blank page
I can’t read it.
There is no information, but I know something is on it.
Invisible ink?
Maybe.
Maybe the words were washed away with the last storm.
I do not know what it is,
Only that it is.
Prove to me what is on the page.
Show me the words.
Bring sight to my blind eyes.
Bring peace to my unsettled mind.
Word by word reveal what it is,
Word by word show me what this is.
Confused. Miserable. Alone. Scared.
So, so scared.
The worst how empty she felt.
Where was her mother, her father, her sisters, her brothers?
Was she in their thoughts? Was it only her?
Soon, she could think of nothing. Her mind drew blank.
She faced the white, chalky wall atop her tall bunk bed, the railings red and bright. Her lungs were heavy. One breath in. One breath out.
Was this what her 13 years of life had come to?
Another deep breath out.
She closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would take over. She whispered a prayer to God that someone would find her, that she might find herself.
How silly she was to think she was alone in the midst of this struggle. How narrow minded, how blind to the future she was.
Because beneath her, with an obnoxious rustle of the sheets, a skinny girl with young, wispy hair and her insistent tapping, made it clear that she was not alone.
And just like that, without words, the little girl gave her the strength she needed.
OVS Journalism Blog 