A lone soul returning from a tiring day, walking heavily back to an empty space he desperately calls home. There are none to welcome him except for a closed door. The rains have touched the doorsteps forbidding him to sit. He is leaning against the damp wall, holding an ounce of dry food in his cold hands and himself to serve. A bottle of cheap rum is lying inside his tattered overcoat; waiting to pour the wetness down his throat. And there is a fireplace of papers beside the trash; near which he will sit; for the warmth, for the comfort, for the peace…
In a distance, there is a woman; walking slowly across the frigid field. Her feet cannot escape the cold neither the pain of stalking. She is a widow, protecting herself from the sinful claws of dark corners. She is a servant, working hard to clean other people’s mess. And she is a mother, returning to her child; alone, hungry and wailing for her milk. She puts him in her arms, loves him, feeds him and kisses him goodnight. The child sleeps; gifting her, an expression of peace…
Down the lane, there is a house; small; but big enough for two people in their late sixties. Decayed in love of their children, they hold hands to see each other. The streetlight colors their porch; ochre in sepia. Perhaps the perfect colour that fades like the roses they found in each other’s diaries. They exchange smiles… Together they have watched the blurred sunsets, embraced each other in silent warm minutes and have loved, as they always have, truly; since the past four decades. A lifetime they spent and now they wait, for the day, for the time they’ll be together in a new bed on the same land, resting in peace…
And then, there are some; sleepless on cozy beds, given up on slightest defeats, broken for a dejected love and hopeless for something good. Many of us repent of the moment we so much wish to change; moments of glumness, of defeat, of rage and hatred; of mistakes and of irreplaceable past. And many more still invade. All we do is to wish; wish for things to be perfect; for happiness; for those smiles; for that touch; for those hugs; for those moments of inspirations; for those supports after fall; for that rising; for that trust; for that love; for that victory; for that moment of pride and for all that hope of finding everything we are looking for in that small place called peace… Perhaps a place not that far; perhaps a place so within and perhaps a place that I think we have already found it…
Originally posted on Blogger on Oct 08, 2011