Light as a Feather

She wanders her empty mind. Nothing to fill time except plant the seeds, water the soil, and pick the fruit. Plant the seeds, water the soil, pick the fruit. A stranger might say she’s a person, but the ones who know her tell a different story. A tale of a body, going through the mechanical motions of its day. Like a computer following its commands. Somebody who knows her might say that once she was a person, with thoughts and laughter. That she used to live. But now there is nothing behind those eyes. She simply survives. Plant the seeds, water the soil, pick the fruit. Plant, water, pick. Perhaps it's easier to shut down, stop everything instead of feeling it all. Plant, water, pick. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t look up until the end of her work day. People used to make sure she didn’t hear their whispers, but now they talk freely, without fear of retaliation. She allows herself one escape though, so guarded she doesn’t even allow her mind to access it without a code. Closing her eyes, she continues working, plant, water, pick. Behind her eyelids the dark of her mind comes to life. She is in a field, with birds and colours and flowers. She doesn’t allow herself to wander this field, just simply observe it. But the thought can only last a few moments. ‘That’s enough’ she whispers, opening her eyes, and staring down at her moving hands. A feather lies on the back of her palm, so light and small she almost missed it. The sun hasn’t set yet, there are seeds to sow and soil to water. But she stops, runs the feather along her hand, and releases it gently, surprising her when, instead of falling to the ground, it catches a wind and floats into the sky.

Note: For Epiphany, a school publication. Posted on the Instagram account epiphany.uwc