The Avenue of Despair
“The lost cannot be found. The lost craves to be found.”
When you have no desire in life. When you perceive everything is slipping through your fingers. When your heart and soul are filled with melancholy. Then your feet will carry you to The Avenue of Despair. The dwelling of your inner demons.
Come and see your broken dreams at The Museum of Grief. The bleeding painting of lost hope and buried wishes. Your every painful memory monumented and preserved for you to remember.
Keep walking there’s more to see at The Avenue of Despair.
The fortune-teller at The Circus of Travesty has a smirk on her face, she knows the dirty little secrets, concealed in your heart. The dancing clowns with their torturous laughter, teasing and mocking you. A painful reminder of the prison you reside in – a vicious cycle of horror.
You want to run away but where will you run? You can cry and scream but who will listen? Who will hear you at The Avenue of Despair?
Go to The Shop of Immorality and try the dress of seduction, stitched with false promises and golden lies of lust. Paint your lips for the special kiss of death. All to please your carnal desires. The never-ending façade to satisfy the emptiness of your soul.
Are your feet tired? Have your eyes seen enough at The Avenue of Despair?
Rest and take a seat on the old wooden bench in the middle of the square by the fountain. The heart carved in the bench has been burned down, does it remind you of him? But where is he now? He too forgot about you. The fountain of Misery sings the song of a hurt soul with every droplet echoing your haunting cries.
This is you. A body consummated by the sickness of dejection. Living, breathing, yet behind the smiles are the cries. Behind those brown eyes lives a ghostly soul.
The haunting nightmares are now a reality and what rests is the final breath. You can linger at The Avenue of Despair or walk into a new journey. At the end of the road, a clean page awaits to be written.
Are your feet strong enough to carry one more step…?
Published
Dust is my bed
Staring at her own reflection in the mirror, perceiving that time had surpassed rapidly…
Deep wrinkles engraved by hardship and that of loss.
Her eyes welled up with tears and her trembling lips whispered: “Oh you poor soul, you have become a longevous woman.”
As she placed her finger on her fragile face she looked at her frail lips, and her cheeks started blushing, she remembered the first kiss. Time had surely changed her but the memories are embossed on her heart. She lost many friends to the hands of death and soon it would be her turn to depart.
Reminiscing the days of her youth and the beautiful moments she shared with the loving people she met… she again looked in the mirror and sighed “life.”
And what an adventurous life she had lived.
Was there anything she did not receive from her Creator?
Was there anything left behind in her life?
No, she lived in contentment. Blessed. Satisfied.
As she gave a final look in the mirror, looking at the lace ivory dress, it was her loving husbands favorite. How she missed him and his warm embrace.
Her once so youthful face changed from a daughter into a wife into a mother and now into a grandmother. She had played all the roles well and her eyes sparkled like diamonds of happiness.
She looked around in the room. It was filled with white orchids and the scent of lavender lingered around. Soon her children will enter the room to give her the final goodbye. She walked to the bed and looked at the fragile body lying down, and whispered: “I am ready.” Her lips moving with the words of remembrance of her Creator.
And then her final breath arrived.
Published October 11, 2017 Zaara2179
Global Muslim Women 