Black. Swollen. Beaten … death is near… death is here…
This is the eulogy of a dead toenail.
There was once a toenail elegantly attached to the immaculate toe. Coated with luscious red polish, buffered to perfection, and loved for its elegance. It was treated as a queen valiantly protecting the plush-soft feet. It was the most flexible queen… adjusting from leather to rubber and steel. Never complaining of the smell nor the tight fitting. As long as its supreme master is served - because it understood that beauty comes with a little hint of pain.
It was also a constant traveler- seeing the world in all its angles. Sometimes it’s covered, sometimes it is also exposed to the cruel world. It was able to adjust to the different kinds of weather, different form of sports and most of all, the different positions in love making. Hot, humid, cold, wet… no complain was heard. As long as it has served its sole purpose - that is to serve its master. And that means giving up the position as a queen and humble itself to its master.
Until the master’s deathbed it served its purpose. Never letting go of the beloved toe, ever protecting it even if it means succumbing to pain. The red polish turned to ebony… nearly crushed, bleeding profusely. The toe has to let go.. it was not goodbye.. it is the start of a beautiful beginning…
Who says being minute is useless? Learn from the toenail… death can mean victory!
(August9,2006)
I was pressured by my friend, Anne to write this. 
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