I dream of a life with no goodbyes.

-

 if there was one thing I could subtract in my life, it would be goodbye. I’m still not sure if it’s only wishful thinking, but it seems my heart could bear all the pain in the world, but not the goodbye.

sometimes I feel I could break from the number of times I’d imagined saying goodbye and not seeing the people I love again. it’s a practice I’ve memorised like the back of my hand. the innumerable airport waves that never amount to anything, held back tears, children leaving their classroom doors every year. having this one last time kills everything.


the nights leading up to this goodbye are painful. just as long as this one is. I’m trying to rehearse the easiest way to pass through the airport gates without flooding. I’m trying to picture what would make life easier once I’m back, not having to think about the emptiness that follows. the days I don’t hear my sister’s laughter, or my mother’s face glowing when she comes home. these are moments my heart is twisting for.


I’m not really going home, am I? life in Egypt is purposeful, maybe beautiful too. but the heart doesn’t rest in the loneliness of my room or the silence of weekends. it begs mercilessly for just one more day to be there in the background of it all. 


here is home. where the heart is. where company is in kindness, warmth and belonging. being near to the friendly winds, trees and beauty abound. last year, I felt like Egypt could be home at last, but it’s not. I return back to the cycles of exhausting and bleeding myself dry for unfixable destinies. 


if there’s one gift I could give myself after all these years, it’s to feel at home at last and make this heart rest from its racing pain.


and now, I come to a dream. I come to rest in a dream where I don’t have to say goodbye to the ones I love ever again. a dream where I don’t have to have my heart broken every summer for its temporariness, cursing all the joy for how it never lasts more than a moment and just like that— it’s a wormhole swallowing spacetime and all I’m left with is the sacred, disillusioning memory.


I want to feel safe in knowing I can always look into your eyes, hear your laugh and hold your hand. I want to know that I can always see your face. a weekend we can find comfort in. the warmth of a bed we share, moonlight on days starlight isn’t enough. waking up knowing I can make you your favourite coffee, idling on my laptop at dawn till you slowly wake and see my smile.


and I’ll miss the people who mean so much too deeply it becomes a wound. and that’s why, I hope this summer is my last goodbye.


 I just don’t think I can suffer one ever again. 

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