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.
I will put my hand on this pillow, lay my cheek on that hand, grab my knees closer to my chest, and try falling asleep.
Something is wrong with my bed. Your smell laid no more on my pillow, your fingers swayed no more on my forehead, and your breath traveled no more on my chest. And something is wrong with my room. My stairs drummed no more with your steps, my door trembled no more with your dancing fingers, and my walls echoed no more with your laugh. And something is wrong with me. Your frown faced no more my jokes, your fingers trembled no more in my hand, and your gaze met no more my eyes.
So I close my eyes, squeeze them to see you there, between them and their lids. I calm down, to find your smile hanging on my curtains. I turn around to confront your shining eyes in the darkness. And there you are, sitting in the corner of my heart, unrevealing yourself until its the right time.
And there my eyes relax, my body surrenders, sleep must be on the way. My eyes are heavy, the voices from outside are gone. And then I open my eyes, my body tightens, I hear your voice, I hear your calling. I call you back, I’m here, I’m Here, where are you? There is my hand reaching out to you, there is your voice fading away, there are your steps thundering away.
I open my eyes again, the pillow is wet, the bed is empty, the room is dark, and I am all alone. I close my eyes again, I squeeze harder, I search for you again, but you are gone. Did you knock and I didn’t hear it? I jump out of my bed, open the door, and its just that empty dark alley, with that broken lamp. I should have fixed that lamp, maybe darkness made you change your mind, maybe you are down there waiting for me. I run the stairs down, pop up in the street, and there it is empty. My tears are falling, I have to get back. I will not stop crying, maybe my tears will lead you to me if you forgot where my house is.
I will stay awake, I will watch the road, maybe you will come from that end, and with you sunrise will come. I will stay awake and wait.
It was after midnight when sleep suddenly fled out of his eyes. It was after that when he traveled all over his bed to find the perfect spot where sleep resided. It was then when he surrendered to the urge of going up and writing. He must write the guilt and shame out of his heart. He squeezed his eyes one last time; maybe sleep will get in and finally rest. But, all was in vain, and he must explain.
Grabbing the papers and the pen resting on them was a hard decision to make. But the remorse storming inside of him must be sent away. If he is going to write, how should he address her? Dear Beloved? She was never a beloved. She didn’t take his breath away. She didn’t make his heart beat faster. In fact, she almost slowed it down, he thought.
Dear friend? The plan was to fall in love. He wanted her to be the one that will fit in that empty frame carried in his heart, he thought.
No, she was not the one. But yet, she turned his life upside down. The memories of all who came before her bumped in his head. To leave him, they were always right. And by them, he was always left. Why did this one stay? Was she that desperate? Or, was he that good? Oh, yes, he remembers. He was that good. Good in lies that is. Pretending to be perfect, claiming morals he never had before, and radiating the honor he always desired. He didn’t break her heart for her sake. No, he remembers now, it was for his sake. But breaking her was breaking his pride, was crashing his ego, and was turning him from the usual victim into the perfect slayer. And for that, he must not ignite the flame he put out. He must not break her again.
He must go back to sleep, and find the lost peace that he had once before.
وائل يكتب 