I needed it badly.
So one day I went to the Freedom Shop.
They had a sale, but,
I had no money.
I searched my pocket and found nothing.
No will or courage.
I couldn’t even find any sense or small change.
The shopkeeper gave a toothy grin and pointed to my chest.
My Soul? Okay. My Soul.
I dug into my chest and ripped it out.
(Have you ever felt deafening pain?)
It left a hole almost as large as Emptiness itself.
Original, he said. Straight from the original Freedom Maker. It was beautiful and perfect. I held it with both hands and felt pangs of joy shooting through me.
This is it! I am free!
I got home and unwrapped it. Kissed it. Caressed it. I ran my fingers round the bottom and felt something. What was it? Freedom was meant to be flawless. I found what felt like a label. I lifted my new Freedom and turned it upside down. A label it was, which read, “MADE IN CHINA”.
Only then did I realize that this Freedom was much smaller than my Soul, and would never have filled the hole within me anyway.
What a waste.
More works by Naeemah Petersen: www.heedsandthings.blogspot.com