The Driver On The Metaphorical Highway

The Driver On The Metaphorical Highway

One morning, I left home. Home was my mother’s womb; from there, my destination was unknown. My mother pressed on and pushed me through the pressure of birth. The peasant Midwife named Yaya stood by at the arriving port to welcome me into the metaphorical highway. When she saw my face, she glowed inside her aged flesh because in her spirit, she knew she was starring at an irregular star.

Look at me, as soon as I slid out from my memorable, natural place, or as soon as I was pushed out from the safety of my mother’s womb, I humanly dismissed the midwife’s presence and I began to cry out like madness. Perhaps, that was my unrehearsed reaction to the weird energy, which was circulating around me. I found myself dwelling in that unfamiliar place. It felt waterless and I could not believe that the ultimate force that created me would leave me here alone to fight for my life.

Just like that, I found myself in a weird place. Hence, expressing grief was my only way to send a message back to the universe. I cried to confirm my new existence to the world beyond myself. I cried to convey the message that I arrived undamaged and I am alive.


to be continued....
© fania simon
Illustration by fania simon