Woman
Zombie
Unknowingly I have fallen in love. In love with almost every man who will destroy me. First Michael, then Alexander and now Usman. But why love? Why try to gain this absurd partnership anyways?
I thought I was able to face the world. Little did I know I was hiding behind my fear of Michael and hopes for a someone else. Someone like Alexander. After Michael had killed what delicacy I had left and Alexander was done gnawing on my trust, here comes Usman. And not only him, but apparently another.
One proposal caught me while I was sitting in the inn alone this afternoon. A finely dressed woman rushed to me and secured my address declaring I would be perfect for her friend's son in Enawe. Another proposal, so soon, and definitely unable to touch my heart. And of course, I gave a goose chase address. Everyone in Winsor must know of the wealth I secured this morning.
Everyone wants to know more. Including Usman. They ask me, what will you do now?
These indirect direct queries about my heart's state are driving me mad. Maybe I do love him, and maybe I don't want to marry the new stranger. Maybe I don't even know him and maybe this strange woman had an opportunity for me? But I'm tired of the world of manly desires. I'm tired of living. I'm tired of all the inquiries into my heart.
But my heart's not done with me.
Last night, I dreamt of a place, much like the inn, that had John and the inn keeper's younger daughter living in a small abode. Only one room. Usman was there, he had taken a long bed against the wall in the same room and gone to sleep. The elegant strands of hair splayed across his face. And then there was I, lost at where to stay. John offered to move a bed to the room as well, and I thought it unbelievable that this was my only option. I was soon downstairs in some sort of dirty stone living quarters. The tap that I pumped for my water spilled out onto the unsoaking floor. My mind questioned, so this is poverty?
But my dream self kept wondering why, why was Usman there? But suddenly I questioned her, why did she care? I certainly didn't. Why did it bother her so much that he was present. He currently was around and that didn't mean he needed to be a love. He wasn't my love; I told her straight.
And with a last fleeting dream glimpse of a sleeping Usman wrapped in a light blanket I woke up. Unsure of what I had seen and annoyed at the prospect that my soul might have asked me to consider him I streamed out of my room only to find him waiting to go to court with Arthur wrestling with John nearby.
Is this it for me? Do dreams decide destiny? Do I even get an option, or is there only him? The questions wrestled in my mind as I dreamily accepted a small fortune.
He's tall dark and handsome, and he seems to fit the bill. He's so quiet and perhaps, too quiet for me. I need someone to comfort me as I react horribly to the situations around me. I need someone whose there for me as I go through the phases of sadness. I need someone who wants to know me and not just be with me. Beside me, but holding me upright as I try to fight this world. Willing to let me help him, but not ignoring my tries. Willing to take on my suggestions and not taking them on and lie. I want to face the world, not hide behind him in shame, afraid of what might happen if he were to go away.
I need someone to believe in, who can sometimes believe in me. I need someone to answer questions that don't really have an answer. I need someone to understand that my emotions are raw and stable, but that someone needs to know that I am not completely unstable. I need someone to know I'm human. I'm just a simple mortal woman.
With a brilliant little boy. A boy who finally came to rest with his scared Mama for the evening. I stare out to the wall that connects my room to the other room.
I need someone to know I care, and care right back for me. He should take me by the hand and stride with me to our destiny. I want someone to be right, even when the world is wrong. I want someone who is strong who doesn't accuse me of being wrong. I need someone to wipe these tears, as they stream down my face, and somehow make me smile as the world's made me feel disgraced.
I need someone to remind me, that I am not Michael anymore. Someone to help me know that Michael is no more. Someone to clear the past like lacquer on a faded walnut stain, while he holds open a window from which I can see our future without the sharp raised unsmoothed wood grain.
Girls often believe that a tall man is a force that appears to be strong. That a dark man is mysterious, but courageous enough to face the powerful sun, and that a handsome man can charm almost everyone, including me, and maybe I would be glad to be charmed. But all these stereotypical desires of girls, all these reasons for wanting these traits are totally at odds, what I really want is a human. And I'd like to give him the key.
The key to the heart of this mortal woman zombie.
This woman.
Whose heart is still beating, but only very faintly. Whose smile is only fleeting and, that is, if you look closely. Whose arms have become weak holding up the world, but she won't put it down until there's something better to hold on to. Whose skin has melted away and reformed once again. Whose many lives are intertwined and seem to be only just the beginning.
She calls out to you, as she finally becomes human.
My potential husband, my friend, my newest companion, if you are really brave, come out and talk to me and ask me to be your bride.
Usman, there are proofs in this world that God does exist. God's signs are everywhere, even here. You told me yourself your Quran says:
"And among His signs is this, that He created for you mates from among yourselves, that ye may dwell in tranquility with them, and He has put Love and mercy between your (hearts), verily in that are signs for those who reflect."
(Qur'an, 30:21)
So, now I wait. And that too, only to say yes.
I thought I was able to face the world. Little did I know I was hiding behind my fear of Michael and hopes for a someone else. Someone like Alexander. After Michael had killed what delicacy I had left and Alexander was done gnawing on my trust, here comes Usman. And not only him, but apparently another.
One proposal caught me while I was sitting in the inn alone this afternoon. A finely dressed woman rushed to me and secured my address declaring I would be perfect for her friend's son in Enawe. Another proposal, so soon, and definitely unable to touch my heart. And of course, I gave a goose chase address. Everyone in Winsor must know of the wealth I secured this morning.
Everyone wants to know more. Including Usman. They ask me, what will you do now?
These indirect direct queries about my heart's state are driving me mad. Maybe I do love him, and maybe I don't want to marry the new stranger. Maybe I don't even know him and maybe this strange woman had an opportunity for me? But I'm tired of the world of manly desires. I'm tired of living. I'm tired of all the inquiries into my heart.
But my heart's not done with me.
Last night, I dreamt of a place, much like the inn, that had John and the inn keeper's younger daughter living in a small abode. Only one room. Usman was there, he had taken a long bed against the wall in the same room and gone to sleep. The elegant strands of hair splayed across his face. And then there was I, lost at where to stay. John offered to move a bed to the room as well, and I thought it unbelievable that this was my only option. I was soon downstairs in some sort of dirty stone living quarters. The tap that I pumped for my water spilled out onto the unsoaking floor. My mind questioned, so this is poverty?
But my dream self kept wondering why, why was Usman there? But suddenly I questioned her, why did she care? I certainly didn't. Why did it bother her so much that he was present. He currently was around and that didn't mean he needed to be a love. He wasn't my love; I told her straight.
And with a last fleeting dream glimpse of a sleeping Usman wrapped in a light blanket I woke up. Unsure of what I had seen and annoyed at the prospect that my soul might have asked me to consider him I streamed out of my room only to find him waiting to go to court with Arthur wrestling with John nearby.
Is this it for me? Do dreams decide destiny? Do I even get an option, or is there only him? The questions wrestled in my mind as I dreamily accepted a small fortune.
He's tall dark and handsome, and he seems to fit the bill. He's so quiet and perhaps, too quiet for me. I need someone to comfort me as I react horribly to the situations around me. I need someone whose there for me as I go through the phases of sadness. I need someone who wants to know me and not just be with me. Beside me, but holding me upright as I try to fight this world. Willing to let me help him, but not ignoring my tries. Willing to take on my suggestions and not taking them on and lie. I want to face the world, not hide behind him in shame, afraid of what might happen if he were to go away.
I need someone to believe in, who can sometimes believe in me. I need someone to answer questions that don't really have an answer. I need someone to understand that my emotions are raw and stable, but that someone needs to know that I am not completely unstable. I need someone to know I'm human. I'm just a simple mortal woman.
With a brilliant little boy. A boy who finally came to rest with his scared Mama for the evening. I stare out to the wall that connects my room to the other room.
I need someone to know I care, and care right back for me. He should take me by the hand and stride with me to our destiny. I want someone to be right, even when the world is wrong. I want someone who is strong who doesn't accuse me of being wrong. I need someone to wipe these tears, as they stream down my face, and somehow make me smile as the world's made me feel disgraced.
I need someone to remind me, that I am not Michael anymore. Someone to help me know that Michael is no more. Someone to clear the past like lacquer on a faded walnut stain, while he holds open a window from which I can see our future without the sharp raised unsmoothed wood grain.
Girls often believe that a tall man is a force that appears to be strong. That a dark man is mysterious, but courageous enough to face the powerful sun, and that a handsome man can charm almost everyone, including me, and maybe I would be glad to be charmed. But all these stereotypical desires of girls, all these reasons for wanting these traits are totally at odds, what I really want is a human. And I'd like to give him the key.
The key to the heart of this mortal woman zombie.
This woman.
Whose heart is still beating, but only very faintly. Whose smile is only fleeting and, that is, if you look closely. Whose arms have become weak holding up the world, but she won't put it down until there's something better to hold on to. Whose skin has melted away and reformed once again. Whose many lives are intertwined and seem to be only just the beginning.
She calls out to you, as she finally becomes human.
My potential husband, my friend, my newest companion, if you are really brave, come out and talk to me and ask me to be your bride.
Usman, there are proofs in this world that God does exist. God's signs are everywhere, even here. You told me yourself your Quran says:
"And among His signs is this, that He created for you mates from among yourselves, that ye may dwell in tranquility with them, and He has put Love and mercy between your (hearts), verily in that are signs for those who reflect."
(Qur'an, 30:21)
So, now I wait. And that too, only to say yes.