Tuesday, 22 March 2016


Here’s a small piece I did in a writing workshop recently.

The road to salvation, heaven is calm and serene. A straight road stretching beyond towards infinity. Lined with yellow, beige, white sands on either side. The road is grey, clean, clear stretching till the back of beyond. But, where art thou beyond the beyond? Its misty and I see the road faint and foggy leading up; merging with the sky.
Who is that? A figure in white, stretching his arms out, reaching out to me. I walk, I run, I hurry to hold the hand. He points out and I look down to find a key. I am ecstatic, salvation is within my reach.
A wall on my road; blocking it. Its strong, grey, speckled black and rugged. The slight unevenness of chipped out concrete giving it strength to withstand friction and character. I can’t get past. Never give up! I cry.
I see a bow and arrow beside the road. It is huge and wooden, acquiring a shade of terracotta as if by laying await for me in the sun. As if, its lived a life held by a shaman; by the road, a long wait for me to stake its claim. Three stripes of ancient art adorning its curved ends. I am but only 1/10th its size. I erect it on the road, its curved base wide enough to hold its weight. I affix the arrow on the wire. Placing all my trust on it, I pull the arrow along the fat, bouncy, strong wire of the bow. I pull with all my might. My arms using all their strength, my body fighting the resistance for greatest thrust. Hang on, hang on! I pray.
The arrow flies across. I fly, I reach out, I kiss the sky. I can feel it. The winds of freedom, cool and light vibrating my cheeks with their pleasures. My legs stretched out behind me, my hands holding on to the bottom of the huge arrow, I can see the wall pass by below me. There it is the other side of freedom, the road to salvation, I see it. I let go, I float to the land, billowed by winds that carry me asunder.
I look beyond, the arrow continues along its trajectory, away from me. But, a beast ahead looks hungrily at me. Huge, bulky, brown, dark. It has a face; I know the beast, its mine. It approaches, it does not see. Alas! My arrow has already been fired. It completes its trajectory. It lands, piercing the beast through its neck, destroying it.


In this image, suppose the:
  • Road was your current life
  • Keys were answers
  • Bow was friendship
  • Wall was death, and
  • Animal was society

Reading the piece again, I realised each of us had roads to tread, walls to conquer, either animals to love or beasts to kill but bows to help us through it all.

                                    To life and friendships!

You Do NOT have the right to give away, copy, reprint or resell this content.
© 2016 by Donna Abraham

No comments:

Post a Comment