The Light

I was sitting…well, not exactly sitting. I was in the only position that my potter had moulded me into–upright. I was positioned in a place on the corner of a chipped, discoloured, and textured wooden dresser. I was constantly fascinated by the ever-so-shiny, reflective, and trusted piece of glass. It was hammered into the wall across the youthful room that brimmed over with joyful and sad memories, yet it also held the ones to come. WHen I peered into that magical glass, it made me look at myself with wonder and awe. AN oddly, yet almost attractive figure with a body full of vibrant colours and designs, was reflected back. Each part of me had be carefully crafted by my creator’s hand. His handiwork reflected the perfection of his artistry. I was given the opportunity and the privilege by the crator to light up the world with the true colour of brightness. It gave me so much excitement when I realiszed that I had the power to control darkness and to choke it with my presence. What joy I had flooding the room with light!

Yet as time passed, many changes took place within that room. That once so beautiful piece of glass did not glimmer with brightness anymore and a spider crack had been made from a previous accident. The distortions and the reflections made by the scarred corner gradually made me see myself as useless and dull. I had been in the same position for over two years and nobody acknowledged my presence or that I gave the room its brightness anymore. The once encouraging comments fromt he world were replaced by remarks that clearly stated their dislike for my presence. I especially remember the time when they said it right in front of me!

“That really looks so ugly…why don’t you get rid of it?” asked a friend to the teenager who lived here, while he jerked his head toward me.

“Man, I want to, but I can’t because of my mom,” the teenager shrugged. He went on to mimic his mother, “Jesse, don’t you dare throw that thing away; your aunt gave it to you!” Curses then flew from his mouth and hit me hard like a slap across the face.”

I realised that his mother didn’t like me either when she referred to me as a “thing”. She only made him keep me due to the fear of what the aunt’s reaction would be if she found out. So I was trapped in a hole of darkness within myself. How could I shine for the world with brightness when everything seemed so dim?

One night, when half of the world and the sun were asleep, I was staring into the darkness and pondering on why I was created. Before I had a change to really think about it, I was interrupted by a rumble and a slight tremble of the dresser. I had no idea what was happening, so I was really puzzled. It then began to wobble back and forth, which made me dizzy as I gazed around. In the dim, I squinted to watch the surrounding things begin to let gravity yank them away from where they were and they plunged to the cold, hard floor below. I teetered dangerously at the edge of the dresser and finally, had no hope of hanging on any longer. I could not suspend my weight in mid-air for that long.

“Aaagh!” The muffled groans and cries for help from the youth awoke me. I too had been trapped in this mess. Yet, unrealistically, I did not feel any pain, only detachments from different parts of me. I sensed that I could not do anything for this boy any longer for I was broken into pieces. People tried to save the boy, but how could they have in pitch-darkness? They were all lost and they didn’t know which direction to turn. Darkness had won this time; it had strangled a life.

Sitting here again, I reflect back and realise that no matter how I look, or how much people hate me, I have to do my job shining light into the world of darkness. I cannot simply give up and let the darkness smolder everybody. What I see reflecting

Sitting here again, I reflect back and realise that no matter how I look, or how much people hate me, I have to do my job–shining light into a world of darkness. I cannot simply give up and let the darkness smolder everybody. What I see reflecting back from another mirror are scars, mended cracks that remind me that I have been given another chance to shine for the whole world to see. Mistakes and bad experience have a purpose: you learn from them, growing in wisdom, and you allow them to mold you to who you really are. I am here for only one reason–to be a light, providing a path of brightness so the world can find its way out of the darkness.

(Winter 1997)

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