Life can play cruel, and has been playing nasty especially with the people who never give up on her. What sadistic pleasures does she derive out of it, completely eludes me. But the question is why the people who cherish her the most are subjected to this unlamented torture at her hands???
I woke up to a silent whimper and to a rhythm which wasn't alien to me. But strangely enough, it unnerved me so much so, that I floated quietly taking extra precautions for not letting my presence felt, as she has loved me and has wanted me for so long that it even ached me to leave her.
Oddly enough, I am not her lover, her husband, or even alive. I am her Child who was NEVER BORN. I am a hope which I am sure would last the dying eyes, but I truly wish, she must give up on me. I've been with her throughout but only to leave her when she wants to be sure of my existence.
All these years, I'd been the only one who accompanies her to the doctor... the only one who knows how she tries to smile even when she is crying inside... the one who has been witness to her many moods (tranquil when reading, blissful while making love, unnerving while waiting in savage anticipation, outraged when test returns negative and composed while breaking the news)... I’d been the only one to know she cries herself to sleep when the world dozes off to la la land... the only one who knows HOW BADLY SHE WANTS ME...
Yet I leave her, still, I am not a dream, not at all far from her reach. She doesn't know anything about me, but yet she calls me Ibrahim - the father of multitude or many nations, and sometimes Ibtihal - the prayer, the invocation. She dreams of me, where she sees herself nursing me while playing with my hair. And I can feel the glow emanating from her. The self embracing, all pervasive warmth that engulfs everyone who touches her, the love she exudes, the promises that she brings into others' lives but only to be left cold and lonesome one night. And here I am today, a witness to her clawing herself to remind of her the pain which shakes her like an earthquake to be followed by a sudden burst of lava from the deep recesses, annihilating everything that it touches and reducing it to ashes... even this hurt and betrayal.
I see her under the shower trying to clean my last remnants off her but I can still taste the salt of her tears... I don't know for how long she will cry over me in these five days, but I know I'll be beckoned with an ever promising hope.