Sunrise Stories.

-


Love seems to be memorised, for my fingers slide to hold your hand the first moment I’m awake. It’s the very first thing I do, and it has always been, even before the fleeting lifetime we had together.

I was used to you not being here for so long, and I missed you. Still, those fingers could dream of what it would be like to be loved, and they were contented until I had you here for a while. It feels wrong to say it’s been a while since it’s been ages, maybe timeless infinities, of our togetherness. A moment of waking next to you was all of it.

God has foreordained that I outlive the ones I love, and now I suffer to do it all over again, unsure whether this is still missing you. I’ve missed you before, a time before I knew your name, and a time long afterwards. There was the time when you were here, and it was another kind of missing you, while looking into your eyes and breaking before the celestial connection you’ve gifted me. I couldn’t look into those inscrutable eyes of yours for a moment long enough for the whole cosmos to be revealed.

And now you’ve moved on, but do I miss you? It's more like I breathe you. Angel wings carry all your memories and fold them gently upon my lap. I gaze unquestioningly. Is there much left to say?

I reckon there is.

The most painful thought is that I have so much I haven’t said to you, dear one. Days I sat alone with a river of vulnerabilities and decided to let it swell where you couldn’t see. There were nights I stayed silent and dawns I spent in aloneness, fearing to take more space than I already was taking.

And I purposefully pinned my eyes to the ground every time I knew I was to fall apart.

And I froze my fingers in landscapes of fear before they touched the warmth of your skin.

And I locked my voice in cages when the sweetest hum for you was to begin.

I kept it all in.

The discography of my silence is brutally bitter now. It ages every day you’re not here, when it doesn’t even save me to utter the deepest apology— how when your wide eyes are not around to forgive me.
going with grace in an inscrutable world.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

airplane healing pains.

-
Image
An airplane signifies so many unknowns, so many variables, with a constant ‘ me ’. An anxious fear surges from the pit of my stomach, always questioning whether I’ll ever be strong enough to deal with the discomfort of newness. My breaths are sharp here, in the transition, heading towards the side of practical realms. I’m scared of what is left to heal to embrace my ideals. What if I’m not able to withstand the healing pains and sheddings? A few tears trickle by, summer stillness shedding, leaving me vulnerable and bare in the act itself. It’s endearing to witness and disconcerting to feel. Where will I be next summer? How would it be like to be a year older towards the person who has been gifted so many daylight dreams? I’m back to the solitude of my essence. The realisation that most of my journeying is done in darkness, pain and cycles— upon completion, they radiate a revealing light that serves and heals. But not before the transmutation, not before the healing, not before the ferv...
click to read

intentions of 2025: a foundational year.

-
Image
hello, 2025. I welcome you in my arms, receiving your brand new beginning where I can rewrite the story of my life path. here I am, a woman in so much need of something so terribly new so that I can forget everything about my past and start as someone new. yes, someone new. that is not a typo. there’s so much we need to change around here and I am onto it, make little baby steps as we slide into this year’s seasons. despite all that is there to change, I am grateful that the gift of visualising the year and crafting new intentions is not one of the things on my list. that could stay, along with creating vision boards for all of the beautiful dreams floating in the landscape of my heartful desires. I wish you could see my vision board. it involves a splash of watercolours, piano melodies, the dream of raising a kitten and starting my journey in gardening. also, a travelling spree to where there is a calling sea and perhaps, an umrah. my dreams are nascent, but their vibe are preparing m...
click to read

disappearing.

-
Image
what would happen if I disappeared for a few months, truly disappeared, and worked on internalising every beautiful, whimsical thought into my very being? what if after those few months I erupted like an everlasting blossom— glowing in peaceful reverence for life, withstanding the cruelty of paradoxes? what if I became seen, my body showing signs of a soul who has fallen in love with the humble ordinary, frolicking about the greenery with a sparkling smile that has forgotten what it’s like to fade? that is what I pray for. I pray to heal my body and heart that I truly forget what it was like to be in such pain. alas, it is earth, not heaven. still, I never cease to believe that heaven can be created on earth. I know that we as humans can transcend all futile suffering into an equanimous acceptance. my body holds so much pressure, fear and difficult memories, even if I don’t remember much of it in my mind. my body hurts, and I feel like I’m carrying mountains of fears I once felt, cripp...
click to read

forget-me-nots

-
Image
rare as forget-me-nots, found basking in the mellow light by creeks and solemn meadows, undiscovered, untempted to be of anything, of anywhere. still, they murmur a memory. the forget-me-not seeds I kept in my purse for years. their home was a garden where blackbirds and hoopoes dwelled— it was but a sacred dream. the dandelions whimper of all the wishes they keep secretly until a landing on golden grounds is sealed.   they’re wisps wrapped in silky touches of spring-air.   they talk to me. they’re not gone. poems.. songs. my broken sounds ‘neath apple boughs and midst a flower bed so serene. but I’ve let all my birds go never seeking their distant return. I’ve let them go as I let an old love die, taking me along with it. but they’re here now. my birds. my forget-me-nots, and sacred dreams.
click to read

October's summits.

-
Image
 I am going to try and be seriously strict with my monthly reflections. I remember how years ago, this was one ritual that allowed me to feel grounded and centred, committed to growing every time-bound journey. I daresay that getting myself into the habit of being introspectively eager in witnessing my development would do wonders for the strength of my soul. October was quite challenging, honestly. September was much more fleeting and beautifully filled with milestones. I was tempted and put into trials a few times, which made me feel undeniably exhausted to get back on track. yet reflections such as those sprout gratitude in me, making me realise that there had been seedlings of intentions all along. autumnal wonders it is my first time ever to witness an autumn in Europe, which is heavenly. of course, the gloomy days are ever so dark and sombre, but they are also lovely in their way of making me rejoice in glory the moment the sun comes up and reveals the stark beauty of all tho...
click to read