Ghost of the Past

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My thoughts go out to you who came like a wind and left me with nothing but dust in my eyes.  My tears are shed for you, who was my friend and my demon. The rain is falling for you, as the dark cloud roaring in anger mourns your waste. A waste you became in a way sadder than dying before having a chance to live. 

I look upon the earth from this mountain of dirt, tracing all the footsteps we ever took. Reminiscing on when we were children and you were so cute everyone wanted a piece of you. The vivid image of your smile haunts me the way I hope my pain tears you apart. You called me love, and I dreamt of spending my entire life in your arms. 

I recall as if it was yesterday, how we used to dreamily talk about the future. Oh lord! The ideas we had were so lit that I couldn’t wait to become all grown up and have all our dreams fulfilled. You were going to become a doctor, with I as your nurse; living a life of doctors without borders. Saving souls and making God proud. 

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I walked with an air of pride knowing I found my very own, my soul mate for whom I was created. So tell me, honey, why did you break my heart? Why did you throw our dreams into a casket, just to chase shadows? Why did you turn bad? Why break my soul into shambles before I could learn to say, I love you?   

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From children we became teenagers and slowly you drifted away from me. Like an empty bowl cast alone in the high sea, I tried to float to you. However, my “hello” was always responded with a sharp “bye” from you.

It seems I was no longer in your league because you became a jungle boy, who spent more time in the bush than in class. More time smoking than reading, more time away from church than away from fights. You, my love, became the ladies man. Crowded with girls with no dreams, and a leaking body part in between their legs, ever ready for your unholy visit. Each step you took killed our dreams.  Yet, I held onto them hoping someday I will find you, in you again. Still, till the end, I lost you. 

I lost you to a death well deserved. So tell me, was it worth it? Was being the baddest boy in the cult worthwhile? Where did your ruggedity take you to? Oh, I know! It took you to a shallow, unmarked grave. Clothed with curses for you were a terror to both the young and old. My darling you evolved from a sweet cutie, into a pure evil. I hope you can hear the cheers, because people are drinking to your downfall, and your mother did cry herself a river.

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Gosh! You are such a wasted talent, too good to have ended the way you did. I hope you enjoy your stay in the abyss because love aside that’s where you belong. Still, if you can, please tell all unborn babies never to join a gang, or become a cultist if they are given a chance to live. 

Yes,  joining such is the beginning of a wasted life. And yours is my testimony, that a gangster’s life hangs on a thread, it could be cut off at any moment. Well, some do survive and still make something out of their lives. However, the percentage is way too low and therefore not worth it at all. 

Boo, I used to think that just like me, you were born in the street but not of the street. Sadly I was wrong. Goodbye till forever ends! 

It’s okay to be born in the street, but don’t belong to the street!

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Cecilia Wonah

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