ذات يوم

ذات يوم، سأخرج من نفسي ولن أعود.

سأترك الباب مفتوحًا، من يدري، لعلّني أعود.

قد أعود وأجد أحدًا غيري احتلني وأبقى أنا هائمًا.

لن أعود. سأبقى نسمةً عابرة، ترافق ضحكات المارّة وتقفز من تحية إلى أخرى.

سأركلُ هذا العالم بعنف وأركض في العدم إلى حدّ التعب. سأتعب واتساقط على أرضٍ جديدة، سأنغمس في ترابها وانتظر الشتاء. لعلّني ارتوي وأنمو، فأتحوّل الى زهرة. قد أتحوّل الى شجرة ساكنة، قابعةٌ في مكانها منتظرةً النهاية.

سيصيبني الجفاف واتهالك على العشب منتظرًا حطّابٌ ما ليخطفني وينقلني الى فنائه. سيحملني ويوقد حطامي لينعم بدفء رحيلي. ولن انتهي.

سأصبح رمادًا منثورًا على حافّة سجّادةٍ عتيقة لتنفضني يدا عجوزٍ وحيدة تنشد النظافة والراحة قبل رحيلها. سأتناثر غبارًا يعمّ الأرجاء الى أن تحملني ريح متناحرة فيما بينها، تُبعثرني في كل مكان وسأبقى عالقًا في نفس المكان.

Night Feelings

Photo taken by me @Waelboy

It was late when he decided to call it a night. Thunder outside drove him mad. To him, it was like the end of the world. He decided to hide, to run away from that irritating feeling. Tucking himself in his bed was the most treasured thing he ever did. He is safe now, shielded and armed with wool covers. The heart is sheltered with peace. The clock is ticking, but sleep was away for this night. He had feelings to spill, and so, he grabbed his papers and the pen resting on them and triggered his mind for writing. Where did all the ideas go? They were buzzing all over his head. Did they hide? Did they leave? Or simply, they died? There weren’t any urge in him to dig them out, so he surrendered his papers to their prior refuge. What is wrong with him tonight? He wondered. This is emptiness in him, and he didnt have any ideas to write, so he decided to read.

As people scream out their true nature, his books did the same. They were his loyal companions. What he didn’t know, was that his night was a very important phase in his life. It is the night where his life will change forever.
He couldn’t read, the pages were blank to his eyes. Despair claimed authority of his heart, and his life rolled like a short movie in his head. “When will this still life end”? That’s it! The end. The end is what only matters now. He bumped out of his bed, opened the door of his balcony, climbed the iron fence surrounding it, spread his hands in the air, and got ready to jump.
His legs mesmerized in their place, his heart thundered faster than raindrops and louder than the noise around, but the raindrops were magical. They washed despair out of his system. He felt confused, betrayed and peaceful. Confused by joy, betrayed by emptiness, and peaceful by embracing hope that will lead him to a life where ambitions floated all over. He must be a different person now, he must make a difference. If it wasn’t for the world, it would be for his little lame life…

Silent Scream

She came, laid her elbows on that rusty iron fence, pinned her fingers together and sight-fully dived into the deep ocean. It was her who inspired him. It was her stillness that irritated him. Why? Why did she come every sunset? He knows why he came! For him, it was meditation, it was setting his eyes loose and traveling to where the end of the world lies. Why did she come? He decided to ask her.

Clapping his hands once, pressing his palms on his knees, he rose up and marched like a determined soldier toward that mystic fortress.

The moment he reached her, she turned her eyes to face his questioning face. To his pathetic attempt, she imprisoned a silent scream in her eyes that were flooding with tides of tears. Then, she lifted her pain with the movement of her perishing smile and spoke with a trembling voice:

“To the deepest of this ocean, I set my secret for sail. To the eyes of this world, I keep my pain unnoticed. To this ocean of secrets, I reveal my wounds and share the burden of hearts, the hearts that are broken with losses.”