Lost Love Song

She sometimes shows up out of nowhere, that girl who defines goodness as a series of rigid, dogmatic acts. Self-centered in her world, she sees life as a canvas in which one can only paint in black and white, be either right or wrong. Her prayers to God are frustrated and impatient lamentations, pleading to remove from her the imperfect, everything slowing down her giant steps. And for a fleeting second, nothing feels sweeter than the idea of transforming into a good enough person, per society’s standards. A goal she could certainly still entertain for a while if not for her ever-curious spirit.

She shows up like an unforecast storm, weaving her strength from the heat that grows and grows beneath the icebergs. Sure, nothing compares to the days when shame was the shadow behind many of her steps. Oh, the many worlds they have travelled together merged into one another to carry the broken pieces of her treasures.

Back then, she liked to collect acclamations in the form of humans, objects, and titles. Stunning friends she had, and just like for everything and anything, she liked to have them around as self-validation tokens. With them, finally, she felt normal and approved by the world. A relief  — there was nothing wrong with her after all.

She was running and running with no idea where she was heading. Anything to silence her untamed roar, the singularity of her soul. To tell the truth, she was just a scared little girl. And her biggest fear was, with no surprise, her own self. Too bad if you´d wasted your time telling her that. She would just stare at you suspiciously and walk away. 

She was intrigued by the incredible strength of women, but men were her romantic favourite. She loved to love them. So furiously. With no half measure. They awoke in her a creative power and a devoted fragility she rarely resisted nor managed to control. And that’s what she liked most actually, to be connected to the uncontrollable and limitless parts of herself through these creative escapades. Nothing frightened her in those moments, not even her fearless roar, which could flow freely at last. The loudness of these emotions made her feel alive. So alive. And it didn’t matter that the biggest portion of these stories were fabricated in her imagination. 

And then came Kioo. A love song she instantly felt familiar with. Like a longing with his unique flavours and colours. When surrounded by many eyes, he spoke with a grave expression on his face, choosing his words carefully with the seriousness of someone who feels observed and judged and wants to perform as expected. A contrast with the candour, the childlike splash of his laughter.

Just like her, he was dripped in fear and shame. But of course, none of them knew of it – but it was there all around. This must be why their first conversations were centred around God. They both craved to understand the unknown and invisible worlds and to know the depth of their being. He presented himself as a Christian, and she considered herself spiritual. What it meant for her was a little unclear, and he, on the other hand, had the bible and the church structures to guide his choices. So, he spoke about God with certainty. A lawyer must know the laws to do his job right, and so, of course, as a Christian, a believer of Jesus, I must know the bible so I can live right- he firmly asserted. The same way she searched for God in the innocent faces of newborn babies, the waves of the sea, the whisper of the dancing leaves in trees and the whistle of the wind, she asked Kioo all kinds of questions to pierce through his devotion. To breathe in the flow of God through him. To fill in the void inside with beauty. She was open and curious on most days, even when she didn’t understand or agree with his views. But on days their difference was too large, she thought of him a lost cause and he certainly thought of her a lost soul. But time always aligned them back together. It was a strong enough pull to have their respective quest as their connector. 

Little obedient soldiers, being good people, was their mutual obsession. For him, this meant increasing his chance to heaven; for her, this meant fulfilling her life purpose, which she had no idea about. Despite their connection with the Christian gurus and the spiritual gurus and all their conversations about God, their self-worth remained conditioned. The world was what it was, measuring left and right anything, including the unmeasurable, replacing humans with machines, and mistaking self-worth with accomplishments. And so they did, too. Their right to be alive and worthy of love had to be deserved. And this is what one does when they don’t feel good enough. 

They’d been fed their whole lives with ideas spread out by people from the white people’s lands that people who looked like them were of a scary kind. If not by the principles of the whites and the gods of the whites, what else could save them? And so, they had declared themselves ugly duckies needing to be corrected.

As they grew closer, so did the magic of God coming alive. They made their friendship a safe enough space to speak openly about anything, including the many topics they disagreed on. Sometimes, she felt her questions were a little stupid, but Kioo never made her feel that way. He spoke openly and generously. By doing so, for sure, he’d hoped she might cross to join him on his side where she could at last be saved by Jesus. How perfect would it be for them to walk through life on the same side of the road. And maybe then could they hold hands and loudly love each other? Well, she´d hoped the same, too, but from her side of the road where she thought life was less dogmatic and freer.

Their conversations were rich, not without agitation, but never to please the other. Mostly always with honesty, the kind that flourishes where love and trust are. Sharing their dreams, doubts, and flaws and discovering together versions of themselves they had no idea about. Helping each other navigate the ups and downs of the human experience with kindness. Despite the mountains and the seas standing between them, they were more present and closer to each other than many people sitting side by side all day long.

The first notes of his voice always brought a wide smile to her face, a sweet excitement she felt in her belly. Although far apart, his gaze on her skin, she could feel it without too much difficulty. Throughout the day, like a rare perfume, she carried the luminous words he incessantly repeated to her. She loved the person he brought alive in her, the friend she was to him, and the mutual respect they had established quite naturally as the foundation of their relationship. She felt mature and so proud. It was all so strange and special, a strong friendship with extra spicy and sweet layers on top. They had a hard time making sense of it. What was it, and where was it heading? Were they just lonely souls holding on to an impossible dream? Would they be able to accommodate their differences? Was there a future where they could live close enough to smell and touch each other as often as they pleased? It was their own fear refraining them from answering these recurring questions. God, they say, would facilitate what’s meant to be. And this was enough to keep them going, hopeful. Most especially her.

Their relationship infused her with so much confidence that it was hard to resist the appeal of her new-found voice. It was hard to ignore the muscle building up inside her, giving her a glimpse of that fuller version of herself. She had strength for him, herself, and anyone. Nothing felt impossible. Nothing felt frightening, not even her untamed roar.

But things became a little more hesitant for Kioo.  He couldn’t move past the stagnant spiral of ambivalent emotions that emerge when one becomes aware of unknown parts of themselves. Other possible worlds. All those new ideas and desires clashed with what he thought was acceptable. It raised questions about his identity and values and everything he believed to be what goodness embodies. And it didn’t matter how much he liked the flow of that new current, Kioo couldn’t make peace with his other selves. Even with Jesus in his corner. He was conflicted. He would make giant steps one day out of his comfort zone, love it all, then look back and get confused, panic and walk back to the place he was most familiar with. 

And so, after a while, the shame they had kept silent in their safe bubble invited itself in—a shame so loud and uncomfortable that it became impossible for them to imagine a life together in the real world. For it takes great stubbornness and faith to free oneself from the mental chains and to hold the truth of one’s many layers. 

All of a sudden, it felt as if she was looking at a stranger. Kioo had disappeared beneath the ocean of his doubts. And with that, the empathetic and open flower he had brought alive in her retracted. Too proud to admit her hurt, she became distant and even hurtful at times. She had no idea how much her pain was each other’s. And here were both their shadows in full display.

What a scary thing, freedom when one is not used to it. What a frightening thing, love, when one invites shame in.

It was a slow but sharp cut. Broken and disappointed, she did as she had warned him she would if his confusion would become uncontrollable. She let him go without a cry and did what she knew best to do: she continued to walk her journey, sometimes standing, other times limping, and all together while ignoring the burning rage boiling inside her.

Many years had passed until she was finally able to surrender to the pain of her wounded heart. By then, she had moved closer to her shame and made it a teacher she could rely on to light up her dark corners. She was learning to live authentically and to allow her heart to lead her path. She´d prayed for it. Wrote and spoke about it. First as a whisper and then louder and louder. And that’s when it all emerged. A torrent of emotions moving through her body, taking over her mind. Bringing to the surface all she thought she had long buried and with force she was not accustomed to anymore. Giving her no choice but to let go of her walls and look right in the face of her fears.

And so, like an exhausted child, all cuddled up in the safe embrace of her newfound love, she mourned her lost love song. For days and weeks and months, she cried for what once was and for what will never be. She cried for all the things she now knew but couldn’t understand back then and for everything she still couldn’t make sense of. She cried and allowed the feelings of anger, sadness, jealousy, disappointment and shame to move through her body. And beneath it all, she could feel it, the pulse of her untamed roar growing stronger. It was now clear as day. These parts of herself she’d for so long hidden away were her roar, her broken treasures. The more she surrendered to that wave of emotions, so were her treasures piecing back together. So was her heart healing. 

She thought of her fathers, the vast, colorful and rich heritage she received from them. The deep and loving presence they still continuously manifest in her life, even through the walls of death. She felt proud of her story and everything she was. She could feel magic and miracles all spread out in her life.

Kioo, if anything—she now understood—had been a mirror, an invitation to welcome that untamed and oh-so-powerful part of her being. And as she moved closer to her heart, she could hear it whispering: I am so sorry; please forgive me; thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Oh, my dear friend Kioo, go on and live. Go on and be you.