the words I kept

𝒐𝒕𝒕𝒐

A certain little girl I saw when I rested my hands on a stone parapet.

Gazing out at the harbour of waking dawn—
before I continued
my journey to the Mountain of
Paradisal Mist.

Palettes of seashell-white, apricot-dripped in honey, and indigo dark—
that was mauve underlit
—hovering above the shoreline.

A tremble of rain hung above her and me as she stumbled over to where I stood, asking:

"Does the pain ever stop?"

"Will we ever be safe again?"

She spoke like the calm waves of the
sea
rolling on Maldives sand, yet her eyes
were anything but tranquil.

Distantly, birds trilled in joy, singing a good
morning as rays of the rising sun painted
the scenery in warmth.

And wispy dark mackerel and dove grey cirrus
streaked the sky in the early morn.

Only the little girl and I felt the
whispers of the wind.
Lingering on the ice-cold memories
tarnishing our skin.

And I was unable to answer her, yet she explained herself, "I hear a ship should not be held by one anchor nor life on a single
hope,
especially if the crew abandons it
before the storm that envelopes."

I longed to ask her what she meant when
another life flashed in my eyes; a life
chasmic in threats, lies, and bruised thighs;
a life close to near demise and stolen
disguise.

Flames of the crestfallen lurk behind
hidden doors.

Their slumber was aroused by red-brimmed eyes and quivering lips
bound to abysmal floors, hearing bristling
wrath and doom slips.

And wounds on the face and feet from
running away to the beat of smacking
hands that are oh so gentle only if the
light
in the room expands.

O the abase and disarray of worthlessness
and hapless deeds.

And as I came back to Earth, I looked out at
the water, whereupon the near emptiness,
there was a passageway of birth toasting
to new beginnings.

I turned to the girl, who stared up at me
perplexed but with a patience of an ox.

Marks in her eyes, like thorns cut bleeding.

I commented, "Whoever steers the ship is the shepherd of the sails and master of their fate, and whatever risks they face,
they are the captain steering the wheel from South to East to North to West."

As soon as the little girl heard this, fallen petals of blossoms breezed the sky in sweet nectar and blush—the trees swaying
to and fro, soothing secrets of peace that
none can understand.

What is happiness if one has only seen pain?
Is it in the wardrobe to Narnia or in
fields of sugarcane?

And so it was.

The certain girl and I stood there in silence,
watching the world go by.

From dawn to dusk, sun to moon, snow to
sieves of rain, kisses of stars above
mountains and plains.
Till she and I were the dust of one and all.

And so it was.

O happiness was within it all.
As I took the road less travelled,
my tears were washed away by the rainfall.

And on my journey to Mount Paradise,
my soul was touched by the sun—upon
finding warmth.

And so it was.

- A Certain Little Girl, part 2
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A/N: It's not the best. It doesn't even feel complete. But I did try — believe me, I did. I even got 3 approvals before I posted it. I guess that's how much of a perfectionist I am. :P
What are your thoughts?

Random Question:
Where's your happy place? :)