A breakdown of events in point form:
Picture a pitch black night in a misty room of sassy jazz.
There she stands....
She is a lady of the mike blinded by the bright shiny lights.
The place is packed!
She sees no one.
She only senses shadows that chatter away with a clickety-clack.
Cigar and cigarette perfume consumes her lungs.
She inhales slowly ... deeply.
She looks around.
She parts her lips.
She pauses....
She sets the tone.
She’s experienced in the art of seduction.
She lures them all.
Great men take notice.
They’re intrigued by her “je ne sais quoi.”
But these are also pompous men with reserved judgements in their hearts.
She likes to tease as her lips pull back into a smirk.
She sings the blues of repressed desires.
She does it well.
She does it raw.
She does it with a hint of pizzazz all night long.
This makes her good money:
“Let them think that they’ve got me, honey!”
Her shift is over.
She’s bored....
She’s so bored!
It’s the same game all over again:
A man will approach her tonight.
He always does!
Only one mystery remains:
“Which one this time around?”
Exhibit A:
The man who puts her on a pedestal.
That man knows nothing of himself!
That man wants to pretend play.
That man comes in with a perfect escape plan.
That’s a look she sees.
That’s a look she knows.
That’s a look that smells.
That’s a look that reeks of desperation!
Exhibit B:
The man who breaks her spirit.
That man hates himself!
That man wants to be dazzling in her eyes.
That man knows how to put her down.
That’s a look she sees.
That’s a look she knows.
That’s a look that smells.
That’s a look that reeks of condescension!
The door opens....
A different specimen walks in.
He was the bringer of rain.
He was the bringer of change.
He had a reputation for chaos.
He had a reputation for getting ladies lost.
His name was Midnight Jack.
She snaps at him:
“Hit the road Jack!”
He doesn’t flinch:
“Not tonight sweetie!”
They stare at each other.
A staring contest.
A perfect standoff.
A perfect standstill.
She changes her stance.
She stands still.
She calms her breath.
She channels the wild.
She has predatory eyes.
She longs for this.
She knows much of mayhem.
She was born and raised by it.
She doesn’t break eye contact.
She waits patiently.
She waits for her perfect timing.
She waits for the perfect time to strike.
He yells:
“Hit me!”
She whispers:
“No!”
She catches him in a hug.
He is taken aback.
“Why would you do that?”
"Because the best pleasures in life come with shackles and the
high you get from learning the sleight of hand that breaks you
free.”
“How do you break free?”
“By complete surrender!”
He looks at her:
That’s a look she sees.
That’s a look she knows.
That’s a look that loves.
That’s a look that she knows how to embrace.
Excerpt from The Magdala by Nathalie C.M. Sabbagh
About the Creator
Nathalie C.M. Sabbagh
I don't see the world the same; none of us do, and yet, here we are, somehow connected with this greater intelligence called life, as part of the process and not as separate. These are excerpts from my books,
www.nathaliecmsabbagh.com
Enjoy!
Keep reading
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This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
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Comments (2)
This was such a wonderful poem! Loved it!
"Because the best pleasures in life come with shackles and the high you get from learning the sleight of hand that breaks you free.” I loved this line the most! This was so brilliant!