By Nour ElBorno
Some wounds cut us deep
Like sudden thorns do;
And they fight their way inside us
Like tomorrows can never come.
Some wounds take so much of our souls
That physical pain is no match;
And sometimes the hurt is too tough
That we cannot take it out.
Some wounds are like sudden sunrays
That surround our eyes
After long time in the dark.
It burns – slowly –
Until we could see one more time.
Some wounds entomb our hearts
That the beats are slow;
And slowly our souls are dragged outside.
Some wounds open doors for light
And some force light to leak out.
And those wounds that heal:
They imprison the pain inside;
And are shut closed for life.
I read a story – a couple of times;
I heard the melody you sang inside.
There were thoughts roaming around your eyes
And I could see the sparkles win through my heart;
There was time I thought I knew where I stand –
But here I am crawling around –
Waiting for a stop.
I took my breath and held it inside;
But the world was going so fast;
I tried to breathe; I tried to see
But like when am in a car
And the speed takes me away.
I try to look closer around
To find a fixed point –
To hold on to the ground –
But am flying;
And am searching;
And right when I thought that I am wingless
I found a way to soar
Inside of me.
I found a way to run mountain tops
I found preciousness
I found a glimpse of hope –
Flickering in the reflection of your
As they flared
A minute –
“I love you,”
Said the phone operator.
We have always asked those we meet about how they feel towards others, at least once. “Is there anyone out there you love?” is usually the first question that comes to us when we meet people, or when we are interested to know about others. The first question we ask a child, “Who do you love more your dad or mom? Your brother or sister? Ms. Sarah or Ms. God-knows-who?”
We never, though, ask people who loves them most.
We know how it feels to love. But how does it feel when you are loved? How does it feel when someone out there is actually interested in your well-being? How does it feel to know, for sure, that if one day you don’t wake up, someone will feel about you as Wordsworth, an 18th century poet, felt about Lucy when she died,
She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and, oh,
The difference to me!”
Yes, Lucy is dead. However, we are not. Being loved is as priceless as the emotion of loving. One is ought to remember that. Our paths cross with so many people who love us and care about us, but we look the other way in search for those we love. We forget to feel ‘loved’, we forget to enjoy the feeling of ‘being loved’. We are too busy trying to feel ‘love’ for others that we forget to touch the feelings other hearts spring in ours.
Love is not just a two-way emotion. They are two distinct feelings. We often forget such fact.