THE VENTRILOQUIST
A song to fill your ears whilst you read - Miss You - trentemoller
Elated and jubilant, she began to arrange her toys on her bed, wanting an audience for her mother’s show,
She joined them as her mother entered her bedroom carrying her ventriloquist dummy, a routine she would never forego
Laughter consumed the silence as her daughter enjoyed the ventriloquist skit,
Mesmerized by the talent her mother and dummy showcased, their humour, their wit
Her daughter applauded them both as the performance came to a bitter end,
She bade goodnight to her mother and embraced the dummy, her beloved and treasured friend
“I love you little one,” mimed the dummy, as her daughter grinned and replied,
“Me too,” she answered halfway through a yawn, partially asleep and laid on her side
Her mother beamed before she switched the light off and walked down the hall,
Unaware her last performance was drawing upon her, soon would come her downfall
One night her daughter awaited her mother’s presence, confused at her sudden absence,
She sneaked down the hallway to her mother’s doorway and lingered there impatiently keeping her distance
About to enter, she heard a soft whimper, trembled and dashed back to her room in a blur,
Feeling perplexed she hurriedly ducked under the covers until sleep overcame her
Her mother lay in bed, staring aimlessly at the downpour outside,
She sat up and held her head in her hands, an immense desire to hide
Proud she had been of her ability to create such an atmosphere of hilarity and content,
Now she sat silent, powerless, no medium to speak through when there was so much she wanted to vent
She struggled to find her voice, she wanted to disappear, camouflage, disguise,
Since that unfavourable day, when her wounded hand had brought her to her demise
No longer was she able to fulfill her passion or to make her daughter smile,
As her voice shriveled into nothingness and she became detached for a while
From then on, her daughter surveyed her mother, suppressing her words also, afraid of what to say,
For her mother divulged nothing to her, gruelling it had become day after day
She succumbed to the routine of going through the days and nights unaided,
And accepted that the bedtime shows were gone, even though it was something she would have never traded
She tucked herself in bed and went another night filled with frustration, her mind in a constant duel,
So many questions unanswered, she faced her pillow while tears illuminated her eyes like jewels
Lost she was, she leapt out of bed and crept to the basement, hopeful her mother would not hear,
As she descended the stairs to find the ventriloquist doll thrown to the floor as she wiped away a tear
She sat by its side and hoisted it onto her lap, and mimicked her mother’s actions,
And the words she began to utter echoed around the room for the tiniest little fraction
The dummy mimed her words as she had forced it to do so, without a fray,
What they whispered hesitantly and without certainty was: ‘your mummy’s going to be okay’.