Circles In The Air

I walked into Amba’s house today
armed with a book for motivation,
a prayer for inspiration,
and a hug for a friend in need.

Our conversation prior to my hurried visit
had gone like this.
‘Be strong’
‘I can’t take it any more,’ she said.
‘Hold on, don’t cry’
‘Why should I hold on, why?
‘For the children, for yourself’, I said
‘Nothing more to hold on for’.
‘How come?’ I stupidly asked.
‘I’ve been silent too long’, she said.
‘I’ve watched things go from bad to worse,
Sidelined for promotions at work
because I was pregnant with my last born.
Beaten by my husband, by culture, by tradition,
even religion, for no reason at all’.
‘I’ve suffered ever since I was born,
I’ve struggled just to get on.
My whole life has been an unwilling sacrifice.
I’ve lived by life’s expectation,
Now, I’m tired.
Say what you will,
I’m taking the coward’s way out.
It’s time to let go’, she said.

Words of wisdom froze on my lips.
Blood in my veins turned icy cold.
All I could say is,
‘I’m coming over, my friend’.
I held on tight to my shawl
as my heart cried out.

So there I was
standing at the one-roomed house door
watching her dangling feet
make circles in the heavy air.

POp © 13 Mar 07