I hear the leaves rustle in the breeze The gust picks up slowly, gradually I hear the rattle of a window The one that lies loosely in its frame Like a watchful sentry Announcing the entry Of a wayward breeze That rolls in through its screen To knock upon the door At the end of the corridor
I walk out of my bedroom into the lounge The sentinel window Is now trembling, recoiling Rattling its pane Warning of rain That will soon moisten Its face; gushing Rushing, tearing The dust off old memories Renewing the pain
I see the first flash of lightning and then The thunder breaks The storm has arrived I look at it through the window Now lying quietly in its frame Soon the glisten of its pane Swells into a stream flowing Down silently as I sit quietly With the sweet ache Of old memories again.
I couldn’t. Everywhere I looked, it was there, looming like a mountain, shivering with the bones and moans of people gone. Rattling its presence constantly. I felt it reach desperate fingers through my veins, slowing my blood to a cold, desolate crawl. Then, roaring through my ears in floods that threatened to rip through the corners of my eyes. My parched eyeballs burned until I couldn’t see.
See me …. Feel me
I couldn’t let myself feel its broken form. Jagged and sharp, it would cut through my flesh everytime I looked at it. No matter how fast I fled, it caught up and gripped me around my chest. So tight, I couldnt breathe. I gasped for air, taking in big choking gulps. And then I ran again. I ran and ran until I couldn’t feel.
Feel me … Hold me
I couldn’t let it engulf my senses, to stir up memories that howled in my head. Its own throbbing soul pitched wretchedly inside its quivering tortured layers. Layers upon layers of purple-grey. Like bruises that just don’t heal. It kept hitting itself bruise upon bruise against the walls of my ribcage until every seam was tattooed with wounding inks. Until it lay prone, ragged and torn. I couldn’t look at it, I couldnt hold it.
Look at me … See me … Feel me … Hold me
Hold me … Feel me … See me … Look at me
I looked at it then, and saw a face there, distorted with pain. So much pain. It was mine. I saw it then, fold up its battered layers and quietly crawl into my heart I felt it then, as it tenderly claimed my body, seeping into every atom of my being I held it at last as it became whole, unbroken, divine. My grief finally belonged to me.
My temples throb Like the devil has set up shop In their wefts of flesh and bone There he threshes His wheat and corn Brimstoned and fire shorn Screaming out his brutal song I’m enmeshed Tied inside my throbbing head Forced to see, ingest and feel The devilry Making me curse Making me keen In time to the pounding drum And the terrifying never-ending hum Of the devil’s threshing machine
I try to think Break out of the infernal links That tie me down inside my head My raging, aching, splitting head But the devil sings His strangely hypnotizing song And I stop Trying to slip Into my veins Away, away from the devil’s shop From that wretched, that exhausting pain And I stay The convulsions hold me in their sway Aaaa-gonizing me Beating, pulverizing me Crescendoing with my memories And I sit with my pounding head As the throb in my temples counts the dead.
She looks at me hesitantly There is something on her mind I feel her turmoil, her anxiety But I’m also aware of the impropriety Of looking straight into her soul Uninvited, I can’t make bold Enough to let her know That I know that something is not right
She looks away, I continue to read The label on the jar of cream in my hands Luxury Hand Lotion it says Lilac and English lavender I am acutely aware of her disquietude Intensely, minutely even as I Focus on the object I cannot put down … She finally speaks to me with her eyes
Have you ever felt unlike yourself? Like it was not you who was experiencing The pain … the loss … the tragedy … Like you were on the outside, just watching? The jar of cream breaks free from the spell As I face her with all of my being It now sits on the table flat and still As I look at her, letting my heart speak
I know, dearest one … I can feel your hurt Talk to me, or don’t talk at all Let it all out or just set it free In the secret spaces of your soul Listen to your grief, speak to it too Until the throb recedes a notch or two Then let me in, let me hold you close Let me share your pain as I sit with you
Mahvash Mohtadullah 