I broke ….
so slow so that the shattering sound of my fall does not hurt anyone;
a slow one that only the walls of my room,
God himself and I heard the crushing sound of my collapse.
All the strings inside me have broken
but I cried sometimes, yet I didn’t not cry instead, I chose to face the sky, smiling back and pleaded, I don’t want to cry anymore
but sob and gulp every teardrop inside
which you know is harder than crying itself!
And then He answered, “Hold my power,
the pen, and let your tears drop on the paper,
I will count them and wipe them with joy.” So, I embraced His power….
the mighty pen, I borrowed its strength,
it carefully begun to craft the falling sound,
and teardrops that I interpreted back;
the paper I beseeched its mighty space,
listened with all attention to screen
whatever I murmured…
without any judgments,
without any arguments,
without any complains,
or without asking for
My friendship with these pen and paper sought a prestigious stage, where I could hear my pen talking to me and saw the paper smiling back to me with unexplainable joy through which I saw His Mighty Face!
These pen and paper fixed me,
mended me, stitched back my internal wounds,
refitted me, amended me,
altered me, modified me,
re-directed me, exalted me, accompanied me,
pitched me, patched me,
purified me, adjusted me,
healed me, corrected me,
reformed me, rescued me,
renewed me, remembered me,
rebuilt me, aided me,
assisted me, cherished me,
valued me, respected me,
encouraged me, rectified me,
troubleshot me, revived me,
assembled me, celebrated me, reintegrated me, served me,
sheltered me, repaired me
and answered my every question
with open smile…
And He whom I communicated to,
loved me dearly with His all strength!
By: Abdul Samad Haidari