Sunday, January 25, 2015

Boxes underneath the sky

She wondered as she typed away letters on a grey screen what was the reasoning behind all the angst she felt. She wondered about the boxes she kept drawing around her; every time she would exit one, she draws another to step into.

She eventually learnt to draw doors and little windows, then by time she learnt to draw knobs and handles to open her boxes for little air. Continuing to live in them she found comfort with the contours that protected her from the ugly. She found solace in her convictions and comfort with one white pillow she kept from her childhood.

One day as she prepared to put her head on her pillow the lines started to disappear, and the wind blowing in her hair. She did not know how to react this sensation of the gushes of air playing with her well-protected pillowed hair, she did not know why her body, once contoured and protected was now exposed and unsheltered. She also did not understand why her reactions were not violent but serene.. calm and collected she was.
She looked at the white lines leaving her, as her hair enjoyed a dance with the little wind that started to bother her. She did not know how to dance, but also knew that dancing was not another form of knowledge she needed to learn. She also knew it would rain soon, and the wind with the water will perform an orchestra that she only hoped she could enjoy.

Those lines that left her were no longer visible, breaking into several pieces and flying away with the wind; they no longer mattered. She looked for twigs, leaves and rocks to draw another box, to draw herself somewhere to belong. Instead she was left looking at an endless horizon of everything else.

She stood up and walked, holding her pillow in one hand and containing her hair in another. She walked towards nowhere. She loved those destination-free walks; but also smiled at her inability to reconcile her free-walks with her coveted squares.

She stumbled upon some sticks on the floor, and knew they resembled her long-lost lines. She looked at them and knew that for her to build that box again, she would need two hands, and will have to let go of her pillow and put it on the side.

She walked away, holding still to her white pillow in one hand, and her dancing hair with another. She left her boxes underneath the sky...


Anonymous said...

Beautiful and deep.

Anonymous said...
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Maryam Wissam said...

Thank you Abdul Rahman

Somebody you used to know said...

Love ur writings Mariam.. ever since you used to write in realm,AUS writing Magazine!!

: )

Maryam Wissam said...

️Thank you Ranya :) appreciate your kind words