How she takes care of the heart
When it’s bruised so many times
With rotten eggs, or bullets like pain
The twist and turn of head
The shaking of legs
Breathing now, or not breathing
Swelling eyes with no tears there
Only the soul – the mighty one
That could hold it all
In this heart.
This week I am off, not working but fasting for the month of Ramadan. The feeling of not working and staying home even for a week seems daunting. As if I were to work all the time; as if a break meant something is not working. What do we do to our brain ? What do we do to come to this living ?
I stopped for a moment to breathe in,
but closing the eyes showed the
person who I have become.
I gently smile in my heart.