Dear Friend,
All deaths seem unfortunate, even the one’s that are well needed or that are unwilling to pass on. It may be needed if torment is all you ever felt or were kept from a liberty that you longed for so much, begged for. It is a disguise often told that some things are protected by fate and even the dust of them, their ashes, belong to it until it doesn’t. Afterwards it’s grains become sand, a construct turns to bitter sawdust for us to walk all over as the heat turns it to embers and our feet are scorched.
Now for you and I, for us, only the rendering will be a bit slow. I will be trying not to overreach but the image of you is quite exalted in my mind, circumstances are not quite what you expected. You see, sadness will likely catch me off-guard any second, it is not up to me anymore or when I get affected. In truth, I have no hold over its arrival as much as I’d like to admit. It does seems like you’re susceptible to suggestion when you’re sad. Like you’re ripe for taking.
I’ve an anchor attached to my waist and it only feels like drowning when I press too hard. I have several times felt like all I could do was succumb. The struggle was cold and shallow as it often is, never reaching and swimming past it is a nightmare to say the least. Most days I give up, it’s so dark to even see where the light comes and isn’t it rather an easy convenience to find it in the dark with it’s selfish glow? Or does it even glow at all?
The spring season is settling in, my mother suggested that we plant some roses; mere meters of broken boughs, just outside our home. There’s a small plot that is mainly used for parking now, it banks a small stream- which is dead or dying by the way- and another small river that is quite dark. The water looks like flowing rust. It is flanked by local Evergreens, which were so rudely crushed by our neighbors when they cut the trees on the other side of the river bank.
Perhaps the rose buds would have been a good greeting sign but then again, I had to deny. We have historically chased things until we’ve ruined them and made them severely irreparable. Who’s to say the same wouldn’t happen to them after we’ve put our efforts and our resources? Its true that it takes a months for the buds to become flowers, the roots to grow deeper and the branches to split. It’ll grow to be all kinds of beautiful I’m sure but I had to keep its fate in check, so I planted them within the walls of my own and thereby patiently await for them to bloom. I’d be risking their lives if I were to put them outside.
I’m sure there are nicer things in the world, I’m sure there are certain things that we wish to protect but we don’t get to do that part sometimes. Things keep moving forward even when everything seems to be moving at a pace that is averse to our own. It’s alright I suppose, we’re all broken and on the mend. Our lives, countless lives are being spun back up, we’re a sum total of all we’ve been. All we can do is, look past it and hope that one day we’re untethered from it all.
Yours only,
ubair.