Wednesday, February 23, 2011

Water series 2007 © Emily Porter

There once was a child who convinced herself that everyone had a certain amount of words that could depart from their lips before they would died. Worried, she spoke seldom, not wanting to use her words up too soon.
She watched a young boy use the remainder of his words too soon. He lied there never to utter a single word again. Starring at the boy in the oak coffin, she tightened her mouth and leaked water from the inner corners of her eyes. So much she had wanted to say to the boy, but he was never to hear her speak again.
She spoke through her thoughts and knew he was listening. Not a singleword spoken aloud and he could hear everything she had needed to say:
Good bye sweet boy, she cried.
You have used up your words and collected dear ones on your short journey,
yet you still speak to each and everyone of us by merely having existed.

Water series No. 3 2007 © Emily Porter

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