Prose, Jennifer Estimé
The cold raindrops hit the naked skin and reverberate like bullets on your armour of protection as
it fights for a way in- a way that the wind looks like it’s already found. And it travels from the top
of your head down your spine to the tip of your toes as if you’ve exposed yourself, muscles
clenched and weakening body.
And it’s as if they were warnings- warnings that it isn’t safe out and its cousins will be there soon
enough. The wind will grow stronger and the rain will turn to ice and it’ll only get harder to push
through. So, they question your loyalty and where it lies because who will pay the cost of your
You silence the worries as a cold tickles your nose, feet swell and head aches, teasing something
greater ahead. Because the exhaustion will grow stronger and partner with your pains to wrestle
you in bed and overpower you. And, with every hit will be reminders that it had been a long time
And, it’s as if they’ve been protecting you all along- protecting you from the silent killer, as it
seduced and promised to quench the thirst of your passions and deepest desires. And, with a cup
rich of taste and allure, you watch the greatest and nobles drink and enjoy the warmth of their
fortresses, now convinced that a seat had been saved for you amongst their ranks.
And it’s as if they were emphasizing the taste that had left your tongue bitter; what’s been sprung
on you. Because, once you’ve fulfilled your duties and nothing is left of you but the body which
no soul is in, who will prosecute its murderer?
So, your body, mind and the weather have worked as instruments of resistance and protested in
opposition to any ill-treatment from the rulers of your class. And it’s always been this way because
you are a revolution.
Part-time writer and full-time mess, Jennifer Estimé is currently exploring the psychological and socio-economical relations in the media, which is essentially just majoring in Cinema-Communications. Find her on Instagram @jenni.zip.