ANGUISH

 ANGUISH

Stop pouring your anguish over any conversation with any one.

First of all , stop having conversation with every one.

Just hello, hello, how are you?

Weather is awful

How is your family?

How was your weekend?

How was Thanksgiving?

How was Christmas?

And then move on....

And you can add another sentence such as,

"Give my love to everyone."

But move on you must and pretty quickly

No hastle, no complaints,  no arguments, no opinions.

Keep quiet...

No use  and no need to pour your anguish over to them...

Family, the same goes for family. for sure.

Include one more person

And that's a secret.

But that will save your day and night.

Don't try to understand or analyze any confusion,

sadness, angst, disappointment, or hurt.

No one will ever understand your feelings

No one will ever try to understand any of your afflictions

It's better that you never mention any.

Just put them on a piece of paper...

A piece of paper is extremely importan and precious possession of yours.

Own lots of paper, beautiful, fragile, flowing,

 hand made papers of many colors...

Paper is an ancient object

Ancient and cultural.

The birth of paper took place in old, old, old, ancient lands

Such as Baghdad and China...

It came all the way from those precious places for you...

For your thoughts of anguish to be scattered 

on them.

 For you and for you only.

Your exclusive property.

Own it...

Go ahead, don't be shy, don't hesitate, it's yours, claim it.

Claim it with pride.

No matter what you do, whatever you have...

Be proud of that.

Always be proud.

Exclusively your property.

Make a painting of words on those colorful papers.

Say, Alhumdo-llilah and be proud.

Proud even of your sadness, your sorrow, your pain, your loss.

Be thankful to your god for giving you feelings

 and emotions to go through all that is precious.

Pain about the loss of a loved one is very precious.

Don't be afraid of your pain...

Many people are so un-fortunate that they can't feel anything...

Imagine their emptiness, their inability of feeling nothing...

Actually you of all people just can't imagine that.

Your heart and soul pulsate with pearls of pain,

Diamonds of loss, petals of roses falling down...

Trees deprived of water...

Deserts of sand

Occupies some people's heart.

Their inside is so dry, so thirsty,

How can they absorb your anguish?

They can't

They can't swallow...

Their throats are parched, their hearts are parched,

Their soul is parched.

Nothing can quench their thirst.

They are not even conscious of their dryness...

They don't even know that they are desperate,

 to deny any deep contact

with another human...

They just have an excuse for everything. 

"So busy, just so busy, you can't imagine, how busy."

I can imagine, of course I can...

But honey, I am busy too...

I just lost a very precious blood relaion...

I am busy with a huge sense of loss, of sadness, of emptiness,

Of sorrow, of pain, of lack of laughter, 

of the deep joy which came with his voice, with his presence,

with his conversation, with his humor, 

with his intelligence, with his ability, 

with his character, with his sensitivity, 

with his taste, with his character.

You are so un-fortunate and it gives me sadness to say so...

That you loved no one like I lovd him....

But I am proud of that love,

 the love which makes me cry day and night.

Yes, I am busy

Exremely busy

More busy than any banker

Any hedge fund financier...

Busy with te eternal loss...

Can't see any one

Can't talk to any one...

No one in this busy world understand...

The word, Pain, very hard to swalow...

Don't want to disturb the friends...

I friends I don't have...

Friends, I never had...

A foreigner, always answering questions about her whereabouts...

'Where do you come from?"

" From East Village."

"No, I mean where do you come from originally? which country?"

"No counry. God didn't assign any country to my name."

'I am a vagabond...a wanderer, a rambler."

I only have words...

I have no country.

"I only have words."

'Can I recite a poem for you?"run?"

'Oh! you have to run?"

"Oh! please do that. Run...

"I always read my poems to myself."

"So sorry for offering to share it with you."

"The poem is not a happy poem."

" I am sure you wouldn't have liked it,

but in any case, you are busy, you have to run...?

'I sometime forget that I do live in a city of finance and not of poems."