Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: White (10/29/09)
- TITLE: A Taste of a Promise
By Melanie Kerr
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Where am I? That seems such a silly, cliché of a question, but I don’t recognise this room. It’s not somewhere I have been before. I am sure I would remember. It’s such a pretty room. So much light pours in through the windows. What looks so simple and unfussy, bears a hallmark of luxury.
I don’t seem to remember walking through the door, but I must have done. I don’t remember how I got here at all. I don’t live here, do I? Have I fallen down the stairs or something and hit my head?
Perhaps I did fall down! There is so much blood on my hands from a hundred cuts and bruises! I don’t remember how it happened! Why doesn’t it hurt? I try to remember but it’s like walking through a thick fog. I catch glimpses of half perceived images that drift like shadows then disappear.
Was it you? Did you hurt me? No, of course you didn’t. There is too much gentleness in your eyes. You wouldn’t look at me with so much love if you had hurt me. Have you been crying? I think you have… because I am hurt. I would stroke your cheek, but I hesitate to be so intimate. Besides I would leave a bloody smear. Somehow I don’t think you would mind.
I have the feeling that we know each other. I can’t find your name, just like I can’t find my own, but I know we are not strangers. I know you. I try to reach out and grasp it, but it slips away like quicksilver, dancing on the edge of my consciousness. When I turn to get a better look, it has gone. I know you, but I am not sure from where. My tongue aches to say speak …but I cannot find the words.
Why can’t I remember?
Wait…Oh no…I can see...
I see two worlds. I am here with you, but I am not really here at all, am I? Not all of me, not yet. I can see the crowd…such anger, such hatred, such hostility. I flinch as the sharp edge of a stone hits me. That explains why I’m bleeding.
Now I remember. It all comes back to me. Nothing is hidden. Another stone hits me, thrown by a raging, screaming woman. My mother? How can she..? Oh, I understand. I am already dead to her. I changed my allegiance, didn’t I? How could I not love my Saviour when he showed me his scars? What has Allah ever done for me but lay before my path obligations and duties? He drops on my shoulder a heavy burden, but does not walk beside me. But you…how different.
Now I understand. You lifted me up, just for a while, away from the worst. You let me glimpse a little something of the mansion you have prepared for me. A single room, a taste of a promise you will keep.
Your world comes into focus as mine fades. I will be with you forever.
Gone are the bruises. You have gently washed away my brokenness. Gone are my tattered garments. I stand before you clothed in a radiant white robe The softness of the fabric brushes against my skin. The smell of sunshine and rainbows exudes from every fibre. . In my palm I hold a white stone. Bathed in light, I am beautiful.
My name is Ameena.
I am yours.
Inspired by Revelation 7:13-17
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