Let’s say she is Emily.
She lived in Grovers’Corners.
Now, she is above the clouds
Among the townspeople she has loved.
The Stage Manager has granted her a chance to go back to life.
One day and not a second more.
“I know the day I’ll pick from the timeline:
My twelfth birthday.
An all-included package:
Family, flowers from school sweetheart,
Freshly ironed dress, ribbons,
The smell of coffee, street voices.”
“What day of happiness would you choose?”
Asked the Director a woman on a chair
Two rows apart from the twelfth birthday girl.
No prompt answers.
“Years past, I would have had a response:
My wedding day.
Was it? It could have been.
Total happiness
We were one on the shelter of our vows.
Then, a sudden change,
Forever.
Vows discarded as trash,
For good.”
The Stage Manager calls on her to continue.
“I am not Emily!
I used chlorine bleach
Into his blemishes.
Though the more I washed,
The more my stomach ached.
And the stain persisted
In its bonds to dates, places,
Names, events.
The memory of photos seen just once
Grew my pain anew.”
The Director insists:
“What day of happiness would you choose?”
She pushes the soft pedal:
Silence is her sole response.
Picture with touches of watercolor by Mausilinda
Histórias Misturadas. 