LETTERS FROM THE GRAVE : Akindele Oyinlola Dorcas

By the time you're reading this, I would be dead.

Let me tell you a story. Once upon a time, a special cock and a special hen fell in an euphoria of love, walked down the covenant aisle to the holy altar, to get bound forever. And their forever, meant forever. In that forever, they produced a golden chick, a plain chick like every other chick, but they made it golden, feather after feather, with all they had.

This golden chick grew up, and its goldeness was visible to all the birds of the poultry, a goldenness that attracts like a magnet. So, another bold chick sprang out, and together, they congealed their love. With floods of tears and torrents of promises, the golden chick was entrusted to the hands of this other bold chick, and history repeated itself. They were bound on the altar of forever, after which another innocent chick sprang forth.

However, the bold chick, who had taken the golden chick in marriage, had the inner layers of a hawk. Day after day, feather after feather, the heartless hawk within him was unveiled. Only then did the golden chick realise that they both did not fall in an euphoria of love, only she did. They had walked down the covenant aisle to the holy altar, to get bound forever, just like her parents, only that here, forever didn't mean forever.

And her innocent baby was growing, taking traits of his father, a heartless hawk while turning against her mother, with a golden heart. One hawk was bad enough in the family, two would be a disaster. The golden chick was compelled to fly away, taking her child with her, in a bid to transform it, into her own image. Forever.

I am that golden chick, entrusted into the hands of a hawk, the hands of a heartless hawk, your hands, and I am leaving. I am leaving you, together with this baby boy of ours. No, a seed of my flesh cannot grow to have a heart of stone. Do not forget, the love of this golden chick was true, only that this chick cherises her goldeness, feather after feather.

So, by the time you're reading this, I say, I and my child would be dead. Dead to you.

Photo credit: bdgblog

By:- Akindele Oyinlola Dorcas (MilohwithanH)


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