Brenda K Russell-Diaz

Finding Her

“Where are you going?!”, I scream in agony. I don't understand where she could possibly be going at this moment; it is very dark. I’ve told her many times that if she dares walk out that door there is no turning back, but this time she didn’t hear my cries or contemplate the fear in my voice. She chose to flee; I was so used to her freezing, fighting, or fawning. She chose that wretched path of gloom, shadows, ghosts, and cold greetings. I promised that I would not follow her down that path; I just won’t do it; I know better! I was taught that roads diverge and the one less traveled dries up like a raisin. Dried up roads turn to dust and fill your lungs with false hope. There is no bliss in watering old roots. Remaining in ignorance is what I’m supposed to do; I must obey the ways of my people. I won’t even look in that direction because there can’t possibly be any hope in places that no one has ever conquered. Sure, I felt the déjà vu; my elders have been here before too, but why break tradition?