Echoes of Loss @free-disinherited - Tumblr Blog

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The difference between a greeting hug and a farewell hug. Fabian Perez.

Macabre Forms

Endless streams of sunsets and sunrises cannot remove macabre forms that roam edges of my consciousness. And unconsciousness unravels the rest.

When your heart breaks it is seldom that your heart breaks.

Autumn Light ~

#demons #autumn

No preludes ~

Beckoned by broken song; my eyes meandered over curves of willow trees, Whispering 'suffocation over resuscitation'.

Macabre Forms

Endless streams of sunsets and sunrises cannot remove macabre forms that roam the edges of my consciousness. And unconsciousness unravels the rest.

Mother tongue.

Your mother tongue is not the language you speak at home, but the one you think in. It is the words formed when a sudden prayer escapes your lips. Language is so much more than the construction of words. It is about phrases, gestures, culture, secrets, and a world of it's own. There are always those territorial of what they assume to be 'their' places - keeping out those they should welcome - and welcoming those that should be kept at arm's length. Most times having to mentally translate conversations before responding doesn't matter. Over time it becomes easier, small talk may not even need to be translated. There is a familiarity and though the words will never roll off like your mother tongue, there will be a degree of fluency. But there are those few occasions; where no matter how smooth & seemingly automatic the process, it makes one weary of having to go through it at all. And you find yourself wishing, someone, would just speak your language.

Till we meet again, I hear.

If they only told me it was not the face or touch or the fragrance or presence but the echo of a voice you would seek in every voice you heard for the rest of your life I could do something. I would find a way to preserve the essence of comfort a feeling of being home no matter where I was, the ressasurance in your core which lets you continue to trudge through, soldier on. But they never did and so I have only memories & reminders of how I lost my only chance. Till we meet again, I hear. It has been a lifetime and I will never forget. It has been a lifetime and my ears will continue to strain to hear those notes, across the globe, across plains of time for a sound I cannot recreate.

I will never hear your voice as long as I live -this thought makes each day a hundred days longer.

No one understands that cynics are optimists who have lost everything & therefore cannot afford to loose anything more. Optimists however, can do to lose.

Stranded in between prisons of words that if released forever hold you captive; yet have power to liberate.

Anguish A Foe

Sadness is a friend;anguish is a foe. A place to mend my broken wings Amongst cruel sands of Karbala- But what sufferage Madina holds; no grave, not even a headstone...

Encore

If the stars hadnt wept all night I'd be looking up at the clear sky. If nightingales hadnt sorrowfully sung I'd be swaying to nature's sweet melody.

Familiar Inferno

I sit quietly upon thought’s edge, At the crest of unrealised fancies; Face aglow from flames of familiar inferno.

Freedom

A tomorrow will replace, not just remind of every sorrow. What fetters our thoughts is yearning for Springs and Dawn; Torrents of darkness quell not moonlight which glistens upon Freedom in the frost.

#freedom

Vigil-

Gunshot. In my yard. I run towards the door. Her arm holds me back. "No one knows who is out there. You're all I have". Gunshots. More screams. Blood seeps into grass. The earth will forever grow flowers as your vigil. Silence amplifies horror As you do not answer calls. Not the dark, nor the weary eyes of street lights Knew who was out there. Stethoscope stained, you breathed your last. No, no one knew who was out there. Not even your orphan son behind the door.

#shia genocide #doctors #target killling

I sit quietly upon thought's edge, At the crest of unrealised fancies; Face aglow from flames of familiar inferno.

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