The Answer You Will Find Hard To Accept
She was born enslaved. Imprisoned by faceless shadows that she dared not look at. She had vague memories of siblings, from a blurry childhood, who stuck close to her. But then they were not by her side anymore. Just like that. She was moved from one hell to another. Thrust in between others who were as broken as her. She learned to accept her existence for what it was. She learned not to dream or hope. Things just are. Sadness and despair withered in her, and by youth she was numb. Numb to the pain and suffering around her. Alone and indifferent.
The night she was violated in the pitch black, her screams falling on deaf, uncaring ears, she felt a tingling of grief. Grief not for something lost, but for something she knew must happen. And as the time came, despite herself, she felt a warmth kindling in her. She would be a mother. In silence, they were born, her children, and in silence she watched with an anguish too loud for her voice, as they were taken away by the shadows. This is life.
What must it be like to escape life itself, soon she began to wonder. And one day, she was there. Outside yet again, being toyed with. Treated like she always had been. As a thing of low worth. Or no worth. Her children hadn’t screamed. And she wouldn’t either. But she could make a choice. And as the low rumbling of another beastly shape thundering by awakened her spirit, she ran onto the hard, black river of flat stones. And in a moment of agony, her life was over, shattered by the mechanical behemoth.
That’s why she did it. To end it. To end her null life. It was not as the world would later say in indifference, “to get to the other side”.
No. It was an act of courage to make at least one choice in her own life.
That’s why, I think, the chicken crossed the road.