The fall of sadness!

"You brought the war with you

unknowingly, perhaps, 

on your skin in hurried suitcases

in photographs 

plumes of it in your hair

under your nails

maybe it 

was in your blood."

― Warshan Shire

For quite a long time now, I'm trying to feed art to ma but she's too arrogant or ignorant maybe. Not been able to experience the healing power of art is the worst curse I feel. One of those few things helping us to be more compassionate; the quality which our generation severely lacks. Hence, the vigorous violence and intolerance all around the world.

“Give me, for my life, all lives, give me all the pain of everyone, I’m going 

to turn it into hope.” 

― Pablo Neruda

No one said this. I'm not lying. Once I used to think that love is capable of doing anything and everything. But I was wrong. I was wrong to think that one does things out of love at least at some point in one's life. Not everything is a policy of give and take. I was wrong, probably because ―

"Sometimes, love wasn't enough"

― Sarah Maclean

"The war sits in the corners of your living room

laughs with you at your tv shows

fills the gaps 

in all your conversations

sighs in the pauses of telephone calls

gives you excuses to leave 

situations, meetings, 

people, countries, love;

the war lies between 

you and your partner in the bed 

stands behind you 

at the bathroom sink even the dentist jumped back from the wormhole 

of your mouth"

― Warshan Shire

My attachment with war, my repeated intonations which seems like war is my lover kissing on my neck is because it is. War is my lover, because it understands my depth. I live in it. How can one ever stop mumbling about their love?! I cry in the crooks of its shoulders and pity the martyrs lying beside me. Not because of sadness, but due to the fact that they cannot outlive their lover [war] with me. It means they truly didn't love. War isn't a hypocrite, it didn't promise me to not love anyone except me. It opens it gigantic arms to welcome whoever is obsessed with it. It has not confirmed to not destroy me or anyone else, because what does love do, if not ruin us?

"And all the lives we ever lived and all the lives to be are full of trees

and changing leaves."

― Virginia Woolf

From the past we might not run, towards the future we cannot run. We can only look up to the sun as much as we will smell the stars and instill hope among us. Because hope is you. War much like you, has taught me to live in the present. One has given me love and the other hope.

"You know peace like someone who has survived a long war, 

take it one day at a time because everything has the scent of 

a possible war; 

you know how easily a war can start 

one moment quiet, next blood."

― Warshan Shire

I would not lie. Even the fear is instilled by war. That same fear I have grown between you and me. You don't know about it. I constantly grapple with those. I search for you at those times but you don't seem to be near. Probably, war doesn't want me to be comforted by some other men. He [war] is a jealous lover too. But it cannot stop you, because we all are touched by hope [you]. Hope [you] is what keeping me alive. 

"War colors your voice, warms it even. 

No inclination as to whether 

you were the killer or 

the mourner. No one asks.

Perhaps you were both. 

You haven’t kissed 

anyone for a while now.

To you, everything tastes like blood."

― Warshan Shire

// Thank you, LOVE [War]

// Thank you, HOPE [You]

Yours' admirer

One who is loved and is hopeful