Braiding the memories of her life past in her hair she started walking on the path she saw in her dreams. It was happy memories for when she wanted to feel the love coursing through her bones. And, it was the sad memories for when she just needed to feel. She filled her water bottle with water laced with the salt in her tears. It was from happy tears for when she needed to reminisce and laugh. And, it was tears she had shed when her heart broke for when she just needed to remember that she didn’t need nobody to hold her up. She was a strong girl. She was the strongest on her own. She stopped and turned back to the light breeze that had followed her from the place she called her past. It whistled merrily with smell of her soul and the voice of the smiles in the days past. And, it whispered of the whimpered begging she did when she thought she needed them to live and the waterfalls of emotions she had let go of in the sea already burgeoning with the feelings of others. She smiled and urged the breeze to return to where it had come from. She thanked it for the presents that it had brought. She would need the tinkling of the whispers for when she needed to remember she was a wild one who had been restrained for far too long. Never again. Looking ahead at the bends in the road fashioned with the essence of her soul, she exhaled. She let go of all the ties she had thought she needed to survive but actually didn’t. And, she let go of all the digressions and hurt she had carried in spaces between her bones and blood. They were weighing her down. She didn’t need them anymore. She looked up at the sky sparkling with pieces of her life she wanted to hold on to but didn’t need to hold on to.They would travel with her till she decided that she was enough on her own. They would sparkle, arranged in constellations of memories past. And, when she was ready to move ahead without them, they would fall like beautiful stars, turning into stardust, a shower of happiness and tears –everything that made her her.
The smell of her soul intertwined with shades of her gorgeous being engulfed everyone around. She was the most amazing combination of the sight of happiness and the sound of smile. She was an unreal reality that you couldn’t fully embrace but couldn’t let go of either. She was the dream that everyone tried to hold on to after being woken up suddenly but just couldn’t remember. She was the bright sound and the melodious light. She was a being that shouldn’t have existed in the first place. She was the being that was awake in everyone’s dream. She was magnificent, mind and soul. She was magnificence come to life.
P.S. I am writing too many “she was this, she was that” kinda posts, aren’t I? Sigh
She was a breathtaking being With poetry wrapped in the silk of her hair And the deep thoughts glistening in the sweat on her skin. She was a beauty that was ethereal. She was magnificent in her existence, Bleeding emotions all over the plain white of her dress Woven with threads of mystique.
Tingling in her palms was the first sign.
Slight, nervous giggle that escaped her lips, the second.
She missed all the signs. At first.
Her heart started beating at the speed of the bullet train.
That’s when she realised that she was feeling again.
There was anticipation. And, nervousness.
There was expectation. And, excitement.
There was activity in the left part of her chest.
It had been stoic for far too long.
She was amazed. She hadn’t felt anything in such a long time.
She was feeling again.
She wanted to feel everything.
She was feeling everything.
There was nothing amiss but one thing.
Her unfeeling heart.
Through the looking-glass, they saw darkness.
All they saw was black, thick and opaque.
Her eyes were a different story.
What she saw was the beauty that is dark.
What she saw was her imagination running wild.
What she saw were the possibilities. Bright and new.
And, all she felt was a comfort that was bone deep.
She felt the ring of familiarity.
She knew the darkness.
It embraced her from the inside out.
It was a part of her.
It was her.
She sat still on the windowsill
Looking down at the street below.
The mother of 4 juggling the groceries,
The mad man singing about getting killed on Friday,
The vagabond trying to sell rattraps to whoever would look him in the eye,
The giggling girls talking about boys they’ve loved before.
She sat there, staring, and speculating.
She was there. And, yet not.
She was thinking about the time gone by.
She was thinking about the days wasted.
She was thinking about the past that flew by her, unnoticed.
She wanted to live again, and not just exist.
She wanted to take it all in, and not just breathe.
She wanted her life back.
She wanted to live.
Death is a harsh reality. Some understand death, embrace it, others fear it. It’s an inevitable stage in life, no one can escape. So all we can do is cherish the life we have remaining. Embrace those surrounding us, our loved ones and try to live without regrets. Change to become who we want to be when we meet death. I want to meet death head-on. I don’t want it to take me in my sleep. I want to see it coming. I want to know what is happening. Death is the end. I want mine to be a good end. I want it to be a perfect end. Without regrets. Without sadness. With love. And, satisfaction. And, understanding. But mostly love.