This is what he said to me as we sat on the porch on a beautiful and breezy evening.
"You're a bad influence on these young ones. You influence them negatively. You should be wiser than that, but no. You teach them to grow wings. You give them 'liver' and those ones, misled ones, they follow you blindly. The blind leads the blind into the ditch."
I smiled and stared at the sky. These are the medals I store in my heart. The big wins I collect for the tribe.
It takes a voice to pull an echo. I think the echoes are getting louder.
"I hope you have a change of heart," he continued.
I nodded slowly. "Yes sir."
If only he knew that there were different ways to kill a bird, that the sound of trumpets was not only found in wedding ceremonies, that the wind could be cool like the evening breeze we enjoyed and as ravaging as the hot breathe of Sango.
I'd have a change of heart. If only he knew the direction the change would take.
YOU ARE READING
Bedroom Whispers
Non-FictionThe bedroom holds sacred territory for me. The bed, its altar. One upon which I've offered sacrifices, so many to count and recall. One upon which I currently lay as I once more pay my dues, in taps and clicks. I miss the days when the gods were co...
