In the crowd,
You heard a voice.
In the flurries,
You felt a scent.
In the distance,
You saw a trail.
Feathers,
Pebbles
And tears;
You followed it.
Up and down,
High and deep.
Fast and slow.
And found a door.
Without any fear,
Without any thought,
Without any cognition,
You knocked.
The door was left ajar….
Was it an old cranky witch?
Was it a green clad mystic?
Was it a pink cheeked girl?
Tell me,
What did you see?
Why is your heart pounding?
Why are your cheeks glistering?
Why are your feet running?
Tell me,
What are you fleeing?
Your own shadow?
Your own thoughts?
Your own burdens?
Or is it her…
That creature you rose from sleep.
That prey you stirred into hiding.
That predator you attracted to hunt.
Tell me,
Do you wake up in the middle of the night?
And fear.
And think.
And ponder.
Oh what did you do…
Oh what will you do…
Oh what can you do…
Is it love?
Is it a dream?
Is it a story?
Something you will never tell.
Something you will never live.
Something you will never try.
Something that will keep you warm
When you lose hope.
When you need strength.
When you are lost.
Something that will keep you strong.
But what of her?
The damsel in distress.
The relentless banshee
The legions of furies.
But what of her?
The gentle lady.
The soft huntress.
The hungry mystic.
But what of her?
As you run with your fear.
As you hide from your fear.
As you cradle your fear.
Will she follow?
Or will she remain enraptured,
in a never ending song.
Or will she remain trapped,
in the scent of a memory.
Or will she remain spellbound
in the maze of your flight.
Think,
Think before you run.
Think,
Think before you hide.
Think,
Think before you forget.
You know,
Don’t you?
She will not forget.
She will not leave.
She will not fade.
She will carve,
She will weave,
She will write,
Your first steps.
Your faltering steps.
Your fading steps.
Halt,
Hush,
Here, here.
Who is she
Who was she
What is she
To you?
Layla Ali Sultan 