I have grown so dependent on the idea that I will meet you some day in the future that I started to fear you. You have that effect on me and I even before I know who you are: Sometimes you are the only reason I am living, others I am living for another purpose to which only one end is forseen; that I get closer to you.
Life isn't easy, love. You just keep fighting and struggling until you've built your Israel and that's a fact I have learned so early to accept. It is life in the promised land that I am worried about. You see, on my way to your arms I had to do lots of things, some I regret but most I can remember with a smile, I grew wiser, braver and stronger than I planned. It's ok! People would say yet I keep asking, "Is it?"
I can handle a needle prick these days, I can face death and I don't give a damn if the end of times come tomorrow. That's who I am. That's what life taught me. That what Egypt made of me; a great spectacle, a leader, a soldier... so many things to give a viewer such a fascinating show, alas none to be taken back home to be introduce to mom and dad.
I am not a family-guy as you would believe, sweetheat. That's my sin, clear as a sun.
I come from the land of sadness and grief, from the deserts of hunger qnd false beliefs. Out of the womb of misery I was born, only to roam the terrains of hardships, to crave what's out of my reach.
And I am thirsty beyound your imagination! And how on earth couldn't I, under the tropical sun on the Middle East?
Mon Chérie, I come from Arrakis, from the dunes of dryness where wealth is measured in water and gold is hammered in the soles of slippers.
Will you forgive me when my anger flares unexpected and furious as a sand storm? Will you forgive me for my rigid dryness, my strong fight against the least of trivialities? For always keeping guard, looking right and left when we walk together, searching for the oppressors before it is too late even in the land of freedom?
Will you forgive me for the sweaty nervous hand, for the nightmares? For my sun-burned dry skin? For the falling hair? For the angles and lines of my face; always set in a stary angry formation rather than in a sweet smile.
Will you forgive me if I come so late? For a greying hair and a bent back? It's been 28 years and I still couldn't find you, so it's a reasonable possibility to consider!
Will you overlook that all, have me with all my flaws and try to heal me? Irrigate me? Take care of my severed roots and plant them in your fertile lands and help me to grow?
Liebling, I have survived so long in the desert sands that it doesn't look like I'd never survive somewhere else, for my system is all set up to survive in extreme hostility, the tiniest luxury would corrupt me.
I am afraid any abundance of water would rot my roots, that the strong wind would break my tough trunk and that my buds won't like the kind shades of the clouds obscuring the sun, my tormentor, my oppressor, my mother and my life line all together.
Wil I change? Will you help me change? knowing that I won't pass the life's test all alone!?
This is a path I can't take alone.
Posted via m.livejournal.com.