A letter from a FORLORN child

There is so much gladness in my heart, yet nobody cares to wonder. 

I’ve been with myself for fourteen years now. I stayed in an orphanage where almost everyone bullied me, stamped me on my left foot, punched me on my head, said something rude about my parents. They don't know how I felt, why I've become so dull yet not frustrated. 

The rush of the wind tells me they love me, which they never wanted to desert me; they just have some sorts of privities they don’t like to discuss with me because even if they did, I still can’t and won’t understand. In every breath that I inhale and in every sound of the morning sunshine that rises me up something wants me to seize it and hold it by my hand, mark it on my head.

I scrunched it. Make myself feel hopeful and full of bliss.
 

At every air slapped in my face, I feel the desperation of their longing kiss and warm touch, afraid that one day, they might lose me because of my fragility but of course, I am not, it stayed as is on their thoughts because they love me.

I have chains of letters for them yet not mailed. Few of those were having the same content for the activities here which were perfunctory. Incessantly, I dream of my Pa and Ma together with their child (that's me). We did what normal family does. 

The touch of these dreams wary enough to tell me that it's true, that somehow deep within the realms of their hearts they want me too. I longed so much to breathe the vast bowl of the sky, to feel the jostle of the streets stretching my loose nerve - strings and quickening the flow of my blood. I love to be with them standing in the meadow, reaching out our hands and figuring out the music that comes from the dancing wind, which hits the tall grasses. There, across the brook, we, convulsed by merriment, listened to the cold breeze nourishing our hungry minds, repeating the words ‘we are one’.

Suddenly, realization came to play that I was alone today and will always be, I hope not.

Days would come that they'll come back to me, arranged everything that comforts me, straight things up, make the best to lay me down their protective arms, embraced their child gently and make up with all the wasted times I just watched the dark skies alone, sang the songs forlorn, and dreamed my dreams on my own.

 Ma and Pa, please bear with the obstinate time. 

I need you too. I'm your child.

Maureen 'URE' Ortega