Meditation on a Photograph
She’s happy. Christmas morning. Joyful day. Birth of Christ. Rebirth. Two gifts. Santa and Nana didn’t talk this year. Who’s Santa? Both what she wanted, but not what she needed. Was she wrong to ask? Was she wrong to smile? Same love but different sources. Different ways of showing. Grandmother is taking picture. Looking downward. Who is watching her? Is she scared to look up? Argument? Fighting? Disagreement? Christmas morning. She’s so excited! Embracing tight two dolls. Two people. Two styles. Two personalities. Two sides. Misunderstanding. She’s happy.
Wish she listened closer to whispered remarks. Wish she knew how much hurt and pain lay hidden in each doll. Wish she knew her smile came at a price. Window into the rest her family. Always two sides, of her, fighting to be one. Never going to have peace. One gift represents one heart, one love. One self. Happiness in self. What begins with smiles always ends with tears. Treasure smiles, fear the silence. Focus on the camerawoman, she holds the truth. She’s happy.
For history to change, everything around her would have to change as well. Too young to realize, too young to care, too young to interpret all the blank stares. Two dolls. Two styles. Two examples of love. She looks away. She has to chose which to grasp onto, which to love. She’s too young to understand the choice she has made, where that road will take her. Two other souls carry the burden. Two other souls travel alone. She charts a different course; different risks and mistakes. She’s alone, yet she’s happy. Just look at her face. Two dolls. Two sides. Two loves. One Grace.