by Nwabisa Moyo
She sees it all. The talking, the laughter, she sees it. Outside of the house is where she stands. With eyes filled with wishes and hope, she looks. Inside the house is where she longs to be, amongst the masses, Within the warmth of a friend's arms, surrounded by childhood memories that float from one lip to an ear and back onto another lip, Singing to songs that she knows like the back of her hand, Reciting them word for word, like a prayer. She stares through the window, with the eyes of a child who is standing outside a toy store. Her legs draw her closer to the window The closer she gets to their reality, the further she goes from hers The warmth of the house chills her The voices louden her silence The clock strikes 6 From "can you get us the 4 year old bottle, Ntombi", she slips into "4-4 masihlalisane" At that moment, her eyes are opened to reality . She is the help The outsider who is within.
