Writing with Juliet Iwelunmor

I imagine the roots of life are buried deep. Within women like Dr. Katalin Karikó. I imagine life tried so hard to trash all the ways a womb once thrived for her. I imagine Dr. Katalin Kariko’s life, from the womb till these day, was worth every vocabulary for her struggle. Her early days, full of the terror of the burden she carried. Her yesterdays, full of demotions, four times. Her pain, her sorrow, being pushed, being kicked out. All the ways they hurt her so deeply, yet she persisted, still so deeply. I tried to imagine all the things that were going through her mind. The questions, the doubt, the faith, the boldness. I wish to go back in time to the early days when her boldness maybe have been shy, unknown, afraid, of all the chains that bind, and anchors that hold you to another’s desire of you. I wonder if she was like a water sign woman. I wonder if she must have been a woman who felt everything. She must have known why her days and nights are sprinkled with salt, her tomorrow, long and ominous. For a task assigned, that these early days almost left unfinished, almost left her struggling like she was deep in the middle of a river, yet somehow must, go on, even as her tomorrow’s were tied up and forcefully subdued.

I wonder whether the first abuse, misuse of her her talents, drove a stake right through her heart. Did it stay there, till a noble judgment day. Or did she look at the wind, those that passed trees, hoping that her present day troubles would pass, by like a dark song of sorrow.

There are rules to this dance, rules to making our sun, stand still, or blaze us through life’s rough strife. There must have been times she wondered, out loud or in silence, whether all she knew, all she believed too, were true, like the act of seeing. So accustomed to the place of fire and dreams, I wondered how she plunged through life when her dreams ever deferred, like a raisin in the sun. Her prayers full, of struggles for air, for survival, like the place where fire and struggle, must have shared one divinity. Who did she reach out to for meaning? I wish to know. Who did she turn to for safety? I long to know.

They say find a circle. A small one. Keep them close. In your struggle for prosperity, your shock at awakening, may your circle carry you from hostility to the sights and sounds of prosperity, like the wings of an eagle, soaring high into the skies. They say till the soil around mangoes with care. Till them for the beauty and joy a mango brings. I hope those that cared for you, those that circled you closely, all of them that trusted and lifted you from hostility to prosperity, I hope they surround you still, reminding you, of how sterling the dreams of an ordinary woman can become, if only she first dared to dream. These days, reading and seeing, how you equal persistence, is like the lamp of love my soul needs. Thank you, for reminding me, which road to take.