I dreamed that night that I held a child in my arms and we laughed and we danced and we played. We built fairy castles and wished upon stars and searched for the dish that ran away with the spoon. We brushed our teeth with imaginary brushes and twirled until we were dizzy. Then someone came and told her it was time. She flew into my arms and when I raised her little face, a single tear streaked its way to her chin and the little blue eyes pleaded harder than the tiny broken voice that whispered, “I don’t want to go.” It was that moment that I realized how cold I had allowed myself to become, how I had tried to freeze a pain numb. I do not know what glee fate gains or what revenge man hopes to reap, but it should not be written with the tears of a precious child, or the pain of a mother’s heart.
Why should it be that what we love most, we are destined to lose? Gladly would I give all that I possessed, that a child should never know tears. In those moments I would have given my life and my soul that never would another child have fears. The most precious gift to all of mankind is the magical, musical sound of a child’s laughter. I felt like only a small dot in the universe but surely some higher being could hear my cries. My anger shook me with an ice cold fury and I began to feel it freeze solid in the cavity of my chest.
Adaptation of another piece "The children" ~hers
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