شُيَخِ نِجّآحً آلَحًدٍآدٍ :
When you're gone... nothing major happens, but the world loses some of its balance. The poem is late, the poet falls silent, as if the words know there's no point in trying to reach you. Mornings grow dim, and evenings weigh heavily on my blood. I sit alone, sipping the sorrow of rhymes from cups of bewilderment. In your absence, I don't just miss you... I miss the version of myself that smiled when you were near. Even colors fade from things, leaving only black as the last witness to a heart that hasn't learned to live incomplete. I write of you... and the poem slips from my hand laden with absence. I call out to you... and my voice returns to me even more lonely. Come back... not because I can't bear your absence, but because I've discovered that some absences are unbearable, and that one woman can be a whole homeland if the soul departs, leaving nothing but exile. And when you're gone, I remain... but I am not myself... You were gone, and the night became wider than my blood, and my breath shattered in my heart, and the road without your footsteps became desolate, and my bells scattered in my darkness. - Sheikh Najah
2026-10-08 15:11:49