She died and with her went her words.
Words only she knew, words woven into tales anew.
Pages torn, ripped from bound books
And thrown to the ashes.
Shelves upon shelves of books to the ground
Burnt down in one last breath.
A mass of burning books
Scorched, lost to flames
An endless collection of tales told and re-told.
New twists to old tales told to
Listening ears both young and old.
Accounts of experiences fade to mere memories
Crushed beneath the weight of loss,
Stories never to be uttered again.
Quicker than fires spark coals,
Lost like embers charred to dust.
Familiar voice accompanied by gestures
All of a sudden absent.
In an instant,
What pain and regret awaits the burning of a library.
My name is Sophia Craddock Williams. I was born in London and moved to Kampala, Uganda when I was two years old. My father is British and my mother is half Ethiopian, half Eritrean. I attended a British boarding school in Kenya for nine years before moving to the UK for higher education. It was at the School of African and Oriental Studies where I was studying for a BA in African and Development Studies that I felt truly immersed in discussions on race and religion: concepts I find thoroughly engaging. Recording experiences that I have observed is something I feel everyone should participate in as a form of personal reflection and documentation. Since graduating I embarked on a career in teaching secondary English, but have taken a break to explore various forms of artistic expression. Having come to the realisation that life is actually too short to have regrets, I want to spend each day with some purpose and having created at least one thing.