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8mm technicolor projector unplugged
by Bridgette Antoinette Tojek
04/26/12
Not For Sale
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8 mm Technicolor Film Projector Unplugged

The sound of the reel as it ends
Slet slet slet slet
The plastic ribbon carries images of yesterday’s destiny
Slet slet slet slet
It always winds down and declares conclusion
Slet slet slet slet
The turning of the reel will not automatically stop
Slet slet slet slet
nor does the churning of emotion come to a sudden halt.

What discontinued was emotional strength. It slid off the reel at an amazing rate. Nothing could match its pace.

To return to those days would be tempting fate; but for now
She hoped and prayed for something better from providence at a later date.

Lets turn up one corner of fortune and peel back the expectations, and slip inside destiny’s better days.
The film revealed- happiness, courage, cherished days that were; They are no longer.
Slumped down deep in a chair, gazing in the spatial distance and then the distant eternal
Slep slep slep slep
Lets watch it again
A five year` old little girl; All properly dressed in Red nylon ski gear was bent at the knees, neck outstretched, hands holding on tightly with elbows properly curved to hold the pole. A man peered behind him to see her coming as he was nearing the end of the not so intense slope. He stood up tall and whoosh, with all the skill a five year old could muster, she skied through her daddys legs. He triumphed in his daughters’ achievement and his ability to teach her to ski.
Later in life she would compete; always uphill as a constant Battle- Raged- her courage and trust will soon be misplaced by caution, recklessness and doubt.
That Film was lost from physical state but the images remain in a spiritual place.
A little red ski boot
All covered with cobwebs was taken from a shelf
the memories of wearing the little red ski boots became very real
The spiders wove magic with silver satin silky thread of their new house- the foundation- the boot
once again the recollections resurface

these little red boots were from happier times
I don’t want to remove those cobwebs so true- so refined
The days when I think I could say my daddy may have loved me- I wore those little red ski boots
the spider worked so hard- she provided a place for prey to fall-
all night diligently weaving her silky trap- she must eat to survive
But
Children, children must be loved to thrive

trust, what thoughts are those?
Why would the butter fly think anything of the shiny orb that appears to be weaved for and beckoning thee when the light hits it just right?
Why would a child think anything obscure of the figures that seem to be provided just for thee?

Stuck in the web the butterfly struggles to the point of collapse
Crushed, Jolted Shaken and Shocked Subside
The spider injects the poisonous venom
Turning the beautiful creatures’ insides to mush
she encapsulates her meal
Beaten, trodden, trampled and kicked down, thrown to the ground- ragged-the spiritually oppressed crushed little child slowly disintegrates as her father remains in vicious estate
the violent, the brutal, the cruel sadistic drunk once again fed his raging fear
not realizing the cost was so high

If the little One diminishes, we mustn’t allow the other to grow

The Little Red Ski Boot must be reshelved
For the spider is getting hungry-
Mustn’t Shouldn’t Couldn’t we just let her die?
Three score and twenty two years ago, sobriety entered the father’s life
The spider never sought forgiveness; the father with uncertainty did
One can never tell what will happen next- Is it easier to ask for or grant the extension to compassion
Yesterdays Destiny carried Gods promise to the daughter at a much later date.
Mercy Unplugged the Projector and Charity stopped the reel
Slep Slep Slep will never be heard again


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