Han

Tag: Inspirational

In dreams, in memory

I dreamt of war quick and fast
Of sanguine faces
And whirlwinds of dust

I pray to thee
Imploring whence does humanity
Gain its infinite glee

To a sickening dismay
As with all other prayers
On that bed I lay

Without an answer I slept
Ruminating in the limpid air
There in the far distance a lady wept

To whose horror! To whose gain!
Are flesh and blood harbingers of pain?

Winter oh winter

My spindly fingers were in contingence with the frosted window pane. Bitter cold.

Gazing out of that mullioned frosted window, there was a carpet of white that beckoned me so enticingly.

Out there on my neighbour’s lawn, the grasses were stiffened with frost, the remaining brown leaves clung to the ends of an oak tree, icicles hung from roof eaves — threatening to fall. A sheer layer of ice on the concrete road — slippery and treacherous.

Snowflakes fell from the empyrean. Graceful and gentle. Like how the crisp copper leaves would fall from the oak tress in the autumn wind.

The bejewelled snow crystals that formed on the glass window pane were so beautiful. Mesmerising.

Winter was without a doubt, a dishevelled beauty.

Inside, it was toasty warm. I sipped my hot chocolate, glancing out at the hazy fog and neon lights. Christmas was coming.

Spending the winter days alone in my abode was probably what I asked for.

After a month, the extreme desolation began to seep into the very blood and even the winter wonderland around me could not jolt me from that isolated feeling.

It was I who let thou go. It was I who let thou forget. It was I who let thou loathe.

And now, I can only regret. Repent for myself.

There was nothing much I could do now, could I?

The more I reminisce the good old times, the more I fall deeper into the quicksand of bittersweet memories.

Victor Hugo was right:  “Those who do not weep, do not see.”

Tears are such wonderful magic. They cleanse the soul, evoke our compassion and most importantly, allow us to see objects that one could never see when embracing happiness.

I miss you. Your care. Your concern. Your alertness.

When I was overshadowed by blues and woe, you knew it all. I don’t know how and I don’t ever want to know.

Let this be a mystery that I can always fall back to and embrace with infinite rapture.

—————————————————————————————————————————

Delightful.

The lucent moon was surprisingly bright tonight, like an ornament hung perfectly on the midnight sky.

The snowflakes danced and pranced in the crisp dry air.

The fireplace was a blazing inferno, the sound of hissing sparks and ashes warmed the abode. The flames, too, danced around the fire-wood, bright tangerine and blinding.

Winter is indeed a wonderland.

Weekly Writing Challenge: I Remember

Your statuesque figure had dilapidated — you crumbled.   

You were so strong during our presence but fell apart after his absence.

I remember…

His purple lips stood in vivid contrast to his cadaverous features. His hair, thin and ashen. An original raven black metamorphosed into pallid grey. His delicate eyelids concealed his cerulean eyes and were never again seen. The outlines of his wrinkles were like spider webs, stretching further away from his canthus. He laid in a foreign gurney, with a blanket pulled all the way up just below his half-shaved chin.

Your hands hugged him in a manner that evoked genuine empathy. Your hands acted like wings of a mother swan, surrounding his cold torso, with copious tears flowing from your puffed eyes. You crouched over with your thin lips in contingence with his bare, wizened forehead — a hushed kiss that bade him farewell and expressed gratitude.

Your heart shattered silently — pain that you could fathom but hoped otherwise. We stood by your side, comforting you. But at that point in time, that wasn’t what you needed. You needed personal space; a timeout; a time to recollect and reflect. 

That last call that you made with a fraction of reluctance turned out to be the most fortunate phone call you had ever made. Both of you conversed and solved misunderstandings. Both of you were happy. 

Little did we expect such a dolorous news four days later. After the 24th of March 2013, you let it all out whenever you had the chance to. I could hear your sobs in the bathroom and your muffled weeps as you wrote poetry which pertained to him. Every night, your pillow will be soaked with tears.

You had changed. It were as though your soul had dissipated to someplace, locked and never returning. You had that frazzled outlook on your face, telling others, “Please don’t bother me, I need to be alone.” 

You complained about how you should have visited him a week ago. You lamented over his death, raising questions that pertained to his afterlife. Would he be happy? Where would he go? Would he still remember us?

All you ever wanted then was to have one more moment with him. Just one. A moment for better explanations and a wave of goodbye —  promising him that you would visit him again a week later.

It was a cathartic experience I agree. July. We have come this far, you were back to your usual self. However, I still feel that a part of you is missing. I am unable to pinpoint what exactly it was. Maybe you hadn’t changed at all and perhaps, I think too much. Or maybe, his death took a part of you. I don’t know.

All that I can remember was the pain you experienced, the woe you tried concealing, the days whereby we had to hold a wake for him, those nights when you slept while tearing.

You could not bear to leave him. I know how you had felt. I genuinely did. In fact, we all did. But no matter what, just remember, we will always have your back.

Stay strong, my beloved Mother.

 

Written in response to WordPress’s Weekly Writing Challenge

怎么会是你

灵前摆放你的照片
我凝望许久
怎么会是你
怎么在举你的丧

这是一場醒不来的梦
我仿佛睡了好久
梦里你静静地看着我
轻摇你的手
要我不淚流

每天
回到家中
总是勤奋地忙碌家务
然后
慎重地在祭拜的纸箱
㝍上你的名字

纸箱上㝍着你的名字
我凝望许久
是你的名吗
怎么会是你的名字

这是一場醒不来的梦
我一直睡了好久
梦里你带着我四処兜风
恍若儿时时候

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輪回之后

我开始思虑死亡的定义
那就是今生缘尽
来生是什么
不曾有任何意义

輪回之后
你还认得我吗
那碗梦破汤
你会喝吗

阴阳遙遙相隔
相会遙遙无期
一辈子是我们的拥有
剩下的只有别离

百年之后
你还知道我是我吗
你还会来接我吗
可以喊你一声吗

有来生吗

把世界还原

进入四七的那个礼拜

我去吃东西
吃你爱吃的东西
我去看电视
想你也爱这玩意
我去逛街
我去看你

我的世界变得很不一樣
在笑的时候 •••
无法开怀
在哭的时候 •••
无法痛涕
没有了愤怒
也忘了生气
只有淚水没有预约 •••
静静来
悄悄去

能不能一次哭完
一次痛完
一次把你想完

能不能把我的世界还原
让你牵着我的手像从前

 

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你的背包

我留下了你生前的东西
你常背的那个包包
在你上门的时候
总是快乐地摊在书桌上
翘首告我你来的讯息

下班了
会跑进你睡的房里喊你
你会回应
我才满足地離去

晚饭了
你会下楼来
围在饭桌旁
闲话家常地北天南

你的音容 •••
历历在目
你的身影 •••
已是天涯

我把你惯用的衣物
小心翼翼地装进背包里
假装你来了
假装你睡在那里

没见你的这些时候
你睡那里
没见我的这些日子
你在那里

你知不知道我在等你

 

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