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 | Sanja Lukić | |
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detail from: KRK Art dizajn - ilijasaula@art
Akhtar
She left quietly, just the way she lived, silently, peacefully. Her features were gentle like the birth of the morning sun, the first ray of the moon, a prayer. I was her and she was me. I remember the days when she would be angered by my mischief, which she would always forgive by asking God Himself to save me. And God, who is God, saved me from everything except pain. The pain that tore me to pieces, joined and scattered me in the hopelessness of a fleeting life. He taught me what it means to love, to love with the soul, to love so much that you never have enough, that love that flows like blood through the veins, body, heart, and brain. Like an eddy in a river, a wave in the sea without beginning or end. I swallowed tears and pain together, drowning in a sadness that was getting deeper and colder. In the vortex of life from which there is no escape, I had questions without answers. I remembered one fall in October when the largest black fish from my aquarium disappeared, leaving no trace. In the swirl of words, I hear a voice.
I took her to save one life, don't be sorry"! How could I forget that she came into my life to protect what I was made of? My eyes are closing, as I didn't see or recognise it. The life that saved that pupil of my eye, I cut with my own hands. "You know, my soul is connected to your mother, I feel it." teeth, burns in the ninth circle of hell.
I told my mother about her, as if she knew how much she was in me and that she was on her way to change my life. The gracious mother once told me,
- I'm glad you have someone like her.
She knew that no one could ever love me that much. Like dew on a spider web, peace rested on mother's face as she removed the paper from the box of chocolate she had sent her. A gentle smile crosses her lips - she is happy, son. One night under the full moon, while she was holding my hand tightly like a child, she told me,
- You know I don't have two wings anymore. I gave the right wing to you; the left is mine. You can no longer fly without me, nor can I return to the Angels. If you leave, for the rest of your life, your soul will bleed from that wing you don't have. Now I'm starting to believe in that story about the soul and Angels, would anyone else have so much love to forgive me, and she loved so much, I hear the words,
'You can't hate me as much as I can love you.
It's time, I'm looking at the grave where my whole life will be waiting for me, to see me, embraced as if embracing a world that doesn't want to let go, and I was her world, a world that her eyes remained eager for. If only I could turn back the day, the hour, the month, the year, so that I could once again stay in that mess while she follows me on the flight and waits for me to land her again. In her lap to cry and say……
Alas, this cry is stuck in my throat, big as the sky, deep as the night. My heart is pierced, I carry a holster forty paces,
Forty of my silent steps, forty years of my burial, forty of my prayers, to whom you leave me, Mother. Darkness falls during the day, extinguishing the light of life to illuminate the heavenly fields and show the way to lost souls with the light of the star she carried in her heart - Akhtar. To find her more easily in this desert of life. For forty days she came, I smelled her, she smelled like that angel whose wing stayed with me, for forty days she came in my dream, to make my mind clear, to remind me of the silence that does not pass, of the pain in which I live dead, that I am looking for answers and do not know the question.
She smelled like curls, her black hair falling on my shoulder as I held her in my arms.
The eyes are blind, the heart is mute, the soul is empty in the wreckage of a body that remains ashes.
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