The Waiting Game

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. She was not allowed to not look outside the window, she must never know the full truth. The world beneath was forbidden, poisoned, tainted and cruel, for a world so big so vast, for a delicate woman so small. A fair-faced child born out of the darkness, living a life of lies. How long will she wait for change? Until the day she dies?

He looks out his window in a world absent of hope, he keeps her hidden in fear she'd face the rope. To be a woman of her condition is a crime to fragile men, who fear the way of progress from quill to pen. He ponders at the snow-kissed mountaintops that meet the lake below, eclipsed by orange houses and trees made of stone. He knows change is the only constant yet the mountains will remain the same. One day they will be free. They are playing the waiting game.

She has seen nothing but crumbling walls of yellow, a sad unkissed sun far from anything but mellow. Pages of a book give her comfort in her heart but it is her imagination that tears her apart. She's tired of the stories, of heroes and foes, she wants to take a trip to the village down below. She wants to see the market stalls of fruits and flowers, meats and clothes, but she knows it is forbidden, for she is the unknown. Her body was broken and required care, but she doesn't remember how people once stared. On an outing, while she was young, her very presence caused a man to pull out his gun. He has to hide her in a world so scared of anything different that they see beyond repair.

Many like her have to hide away, there's nothing more ugly than the ablest gaze. He loves her regardless of her scars he adores her body like a piece of art. A tame creature begging for the wild, she is sick of being spoken to like a child. She has no voice, no way of life. A life that is sheltered is a shame, he thinks while they play the waiting game.

She looks out the window for the first and last time, holding onto the stone pillars as if her spine. She sees a sunset fire with the sky ablaze, she is blinded by the sight almost lost in a haze. Once the moon speaks in the language of the night, they escape under the stars, a darker road leads to a lighter path. When dawn breaks they will be far away, and the shadows of the mountains will grow smaller and slowly fade. They will find a new place in a world of old, accompanied by broken days, sleepless nights, and stories untold.

They will create their own window on a rainy drowsy morning when the wet wind changes, and the new is dawning. They will sing songs of their adventure and whisper secrets in the dark, they will be an example to all, whether together or apart. Appearances are a glimpse of what is never seen, he cries, a body is a vessel, and we are free when we die. There is more to her than just her broken skin, there is more to him than his own kin. There is more to the world than we will ever see, it is what we think, we feel, and everything in between. Times are dark but this will pass, hope is our saviour that invents a new path.

How silly we were to be so afraid, while we all played the waiting game.