The room is warm behind me
The window is cold in front of me.
But I don’t look away.
The magpies in their cocktail dresses.
The great tits in their matching smokings.
The robin with her pinafore and a bleeding heart.
And beyond them, the woods.
And beyond them, the roads,
And beyond them, the streets.
Never-ending streets
That brought me here.
That lead me nowhere.
That took them away.
Watched some of them go,
Cheered some as they went,
Missed some who fled away.
I drink my coffee from your forgotten mug,
I wrap myself in the shawl you made for me,
I write in the notebook you gifted me.
I remember the voices.
I remember the jokes.
I remember the tears.
It’s not a goodbye,
It’s not an ending,
It’s not a last page.
There’s a long way to the sea.
Maybe tomorrow,
Maybe next year,
Maybe in fifty years,
We’ll laugh again.
We’ll hope again.
We’ll remember again.
Sisters,
Friends,
Fellow human beings.
I hope you remember the warmth.
I hope you remember the dreams.
I hope you remember the prayers.
That we shared.
That we shall share forever.
In distant echoes,
In loud memories,
In gentle smiles.
I will carry you with me.
I will weave you over me.
I will keep you in my words.
Until then,
I listen to the wind whispering to the trees.
I breathe in the rich scents of autumn.
I watch the birds chatter, leave and return.
And when it’s too cold,
I crawl to my hearth,
I huddle under the eiderdown.
I warm my heart with words.
Stories,
Song,
Sighs
of what is sure to come.
My own flight.
My own knight.
My own heights.
Dear sisters,
One day,
It will be my turn.
And he will be kind.
And he will be gentle.
And he will be true.
… With him, I will also find
Contentment.
Felicity.
Joy.
And a hand in mine.
And a face against mine.
And a breath mingling with mine.
Our very own path through the woods…
To wherever our hearts take us to.
To wherever our prayers take us to.
To wherever our Lord take us to.
Home.
Layla Ali Sultan 