There's something to be said of feeling ill. Though it's not sickness that ails me. I'm so depressed. I feel like crying. But why? I'm not an emotional person. I'm rational. I tell myself that all the time. I'm not even allowing myself to wallow in how sad I really am. Because words are magic. I told them that today. And they are. Words are magic. They have the power to make you happy or sad. They have the power to raise you or lower you. That's why we choose our words carefully....but it's my world in my head. Yet, even here I choose my words carefully. As if uttering the words so darkly veiled in the crevices of that space inside this vessel would cause the avalanche I so fear.
Ignorance is bliss. Yet, I knew it was coming. I voiced concern. It got us nowhere. Except the ignorance only resulted in delayed anguish...can we save the one's we love from heartache? can we deny what we see developing before our eyes just to save one more day's happiness in our minds? We can. But it comes with a price. We are paying it. (There, i've said it aloud...now what? do i get swallowed under? do i die? if it were only that easy...no catastrophe shall hit, only that which we cause by our own hands, our own deeds).
We are selfish. We cry not for the dead, we cry for ourselves, for our loneliness, for our plot in life, not theirs. We are selfish.
When he spoke of the Kaaba, Madina, I cried. Me. The rational being I pretend to be. I cried. I hate crying in front of people. I hid my tears. Not that it was hard. I think we all secretly cried. We are selfish. I want it for myself so bad...I'm old enough to want it SO bad.
The package of gifts was quickly devoured in their hands. My portion came out. I used my senses to own it before I possessed it. I wore the scarves. I prayed on the rug. But most importantly, I wished for the scent of the sand, the city. I wished to be transported through an object into the world I wanted. I felt Libyan to possess of the country. But I'll never BE Libyan, until the smell is of me, the sea flows with me, the sounds seduce me, the sand envelopes me. I'll never BE until I've been. Every inch of me desires that land, that family, those values. I feel pulled towards it. As the ocean rises to be closer to the moon, so my body begs to be delivered there.
So I'm the last one standing. Funny. I always said I wouldn't mind being the last. That if it had to be this way, I was the strongest. I am, I think. But...darn...I should have been careful of what I wished for.
