Beauty Seen is Never Lost

Look at you, cradling that blue notebook like a porcelain doll; writing a story about a boy named ‘ Rami’ .
Look at you, measuring the widths of the page with a metal ruler and crossing the T’s, an end to an end.
You know you’ve never read a book with letters spiraling downwards and full stops falling off margins ;. So you sit on your elbows, knitting your eyebrows for hours, making sure Rami’s mother had a capitalized first-letter to her name, and his house, had a triangular red-bricked roof.
And you run, after each page ; my god you run with all your might ;
by the stairs, by the windows, by every discarded toy on the carpet ;
to grasp your dad’s arms and nudge him to see Rami’s smile as he buys his ticket to the moon ; to lay those well-crafted pages on his lap and pinpoint to the vase in the background, to trace the details you’ve prided yourself in,
Your heart is swelling, your heart is a helium balloon, your heart is that contained void in a closed-lid paint bucket; your heart is that dribble of a new basketball.
Your fragile little heart,
And your dad grins,
And he sits with his arms crossed;
And he tells you, with eyes that could only speak in steady volumes never in simple words
“ One day, the world would shudder at your touch, one day, you’d stand and know it all, and one day, every page of every book, would be watermarked by your intials”
And you,
Little fragile-hearted girl,
Believed,
Because you knew, there isnt a world but this – and it’s a just one.


Look at you,
Covering your eyes with the back of your hands; as the couple on screen kiss. You lower your head, willing time to tremble forth; the script to move along from that scene; it’s pitch dark behind your firmly shut eyes; it’s daunting to fear the loss of that grace they instilled in you ; it’s blasphemous, it’s the day of doom and those bones of yours would soon be igniting the core of hell.
You open your eyes, and you breathe ; that cold air of safety from within, the story is still intact without the kiss, it’s only here and there, that detail falters , but it’s alright ; you’re capable of justifying it all – Humanity sans kisses is the ultimate utopia.
Because you,
little fragile-hearted girl,
Believe,
Because you knew, there isnt a world but this – and it’s a just one.


Look at you,
Emptying your pencil case, searching for the thickest ink. Trying to scribble over that illustration at the bottom of the page ; it’s a six-angled star, gaping at you with that immorality and evilness they’ve warned you against ; you squint to shape it out, but you know it’s somewhere here, you’ve been taught to find it’s corners on architecture, t-shirts, mugs, blankets, ceramic patterns, and you can’t ‘unlearn’ such criticality. You just can’t. So you scribble, and scribble some more. And turn the page over; look at your hands, and hope that what you’ve heard them call ‘Judaism’ isn’t contagious. But it’s alright, because your Science page had been cleansed now, and that conscience of yours is polished. And words such as Zionism, Holocaust, Religion with an ‘S’ at the end; are merely concepts of someone else’s dictionary.
Because you fragile-hearted girl,
Believe,
Because you knew, there isn’t a world but this – and it’s a just one.



Look at you, now.
A fool,
weeping for a world,
that was never yours.

Posted by Diddlina at 6:40 PM