Is it possible?
To grieve for your own soul? To watch it, burn, disintegrate day in and day out.
For screams to unravel themselves only to be confined in the vortex of your heart.
To feel pain only your flesh can taste? Is it love?
To feel pleasure and joy in a blaze that rises from a coffin engraved with your name?
Ali R Ilyas.
If every slit of a heartstring,
Sin and pain lead me to this moment.
That each ounce of evil that tormented my soul would consequence to this occurrence, here, now.
Kneeling before my Lord.
Then I would happily go back,
and endure them again.
I would reach out to the knives that penetrated the firmness of my back
as a mother would reach for her child.
I would inhale the sweet aroma of pain,
as a fasting man inhales the fragrance of sustenance.
I would go back again, and again.
Journeying through the road of decapitated emotions,
if they lead me back to this….
By Ali R Ilyas