Do not grieve for me, Mother. This poison in my body encapsulated me. I was no longer myself but a dying ember, the cinders of my spirit relentlessly hanging onto whatever light remained.
I have suffered so much. Therefore, death seems a soothing balm to me, a friend to who I will graciously link arms with. He will take me, not steal me from you.
Do not fear him when he arrives for you- receive him, open your arms and beg for every breath to be your last. Look upon the faces of your loved ones and commit every line, every crease of the face, every perfect imperfection to memory. Hold onto these thoughts, mother, as I have now.
Hold onto them, for they will never leave you, even if you leave them. Still your rapid breaths, let death slip into your mind. Let the sweet smell of the world enter your nostrils as you breathe it in for the last time.
Let it intoxicate you, like the honeyed flowers, as you press your lips to another's forehead, your last cold embrace.
I now must leave the land of the living and venture forth to a realm unknown to one before death. It is not the end, Mother. Merely the beginning. I may be gone but these words will always stay.
Imprinted into your heart, as my memory is embedded into your mind. Until we meet again.
Hello! Please leave a comment! Thanks for reading! That's Iqra... OUT.