Alone, in her far off home of greens and hues of red and purple flowers, she would reminisce about her life and ask herself how much her heart loved people, and if it was ever worth it to feel anything otherwise.
She believed in death and rebirth many times in one lifetime; she would look back at herself ten years ago and wonder how the immense pain she had been feeling could cause alchemy in her heart.
She would remember those whose chapters ended in her life and those who were novels that had open endings. She would send words of prayers to them wherever they were geographically.
She had so many plants and flowers and she would water them before she has her breakfast. You see, there was magic in the way she reads her favorite poems and the way she’d sway her fingers on her piano. And after 10 pm, she would sit on her porch and gaze somewhere, far away where it seems that she could see something no one else could.
She would place her hand on her withered plants and she would breathe out all the love she can, it was so strong you could almost see it in colors and light. And sometimes they would grow back and rarely, they wouldn’t. The core of her belief on her outlook on life was the birth and death of things and people, metaphorically, or even physically, and loving all the things that are in between in order for this cycle to complete itself.
She was a lover of everything, this is why she hears sea waves and shooting stars and laughter of babies before she sleeps, even though she’s alone. This made her a healer, something many don’t understand.
© 2015 ALIA SULTAN