Frances Daphne Lu Li’s response to the prompt: ‘She woke to a birdsong’
A joyful tune her heart hath lacked — for too long. Uplifting the tune may sound; bright as the sun’s rays could shine; her empty soul remains void.
Where hath the sprightly spirit gone?
Into the covers she takes refuge; coiled into foetal position surrounding herself with her favourite pillow and quilt. That’s the closest to a hug she could get.
With a birdsong cooing to her: “Rest, my child, if you must. Be not ashamed of your current state. The world spins and nature rejoices in God’s creation. You are wonderfully made. The joy of your parent’s love. The pride of your mother as she cradled you in her arms upon your birth. You weren’t easy as an infant; you grew up carefree with a chirpy childhood. Hopping along life’s path like red riding hood. Today at adulthood, you cannot believe that bubbly kid was you. Rest if you must, my child.”
She remained comfortless. How many birdsongs would it take to wake her soul? Nobody knows. If she had all the answers, then she wouldn’t behave the way she is.
She woke to a birdsong. A joyful tune her heart still lacks — for how long?