A Flower at Heart

Something about flowers call to me; I love flowers, even the pale ones that hold no fragrance, it’s like I know each and every one of them. I love flowers.

Last Thursday, I was getting out of a restaurant heading to my car and I saw a man selling those hand-made Egyptian Jasmine necklaces, he was chasing cars in hopes of finding someone who’d want to buy his jasmines…

Before I knew it, I found myself chasing him between cars until I was right behind him… he had just failed to convince a man to buy a necklace and he was turning when he almost bumped into me on the side walk of the other side of the street… he didn’t even expect me to ask him for jasmines, and so he didn’t even try to sell me any…

I stood for a split second before I gave him all the coins I had in my pocket and told him “I want jasmines”… it was like he couldn’t believe it… he gazed at me gave me a few necklaces as he said that cliche phrase “jasmine for the jasmine”, only he said it with such sincerity and gratitude… I was too embarrassed/shy to make eye contact; I thanked him and left…

I hung them on the mirror of my car after and kissed them like I always do when I am alone with flowers…  I kept breathing them in so hard; they represent a lot of things to me, things that speak directly to my soul leaving my mind in the middle unable to comprehend the intense feelings that go through…

The next day I drove to my workshop and looked for a place in the shade to park so that my jasmines wouldn’t wither… yes, I knew they were dead long before I bought them and that what my money bought was merely the fragrance of a beautiful dying soul… thinking that, I feel pieces of my heart breaking…

Today, I got in my car and I saw them all wilted and dry… I really did my best to ignore it, until I was alone in the car later that day, and I couldn’t keep my eyes on the road, instead, I kept looking at my jasmine and crying over them…

Flowers shouldn’t wither and die… 7aram… we take them for granted although we buy them to deliver messages and feelings our words can’t convey… and they pay for our words with their lives… no beautiful giving thing should go unnoticed and underappreciated…

I went home and looked for Amal Donqol’s poem…

تَتَحدثُ لي..

كيف جاءتْ إليّ..

(وأحزانُها الملَكيةُ ترفع أعناقَها الخضْرَ)

كي تَتَمني ليَ العُمرَ!

وهي تجودُ بأنفاسِها الآخرهْ!!


كلُّ باقهْ..

بينَ إغماءة وإفاقهْ

تتنفسُ مِثلِىَ – بالكادِ – ثانيةً.. ثانيهْ

وعلى صدرِها حمَلتْ – راضيهْ…

اسمَ قاتِلها في بطاقهْ!

Those verses of the poem hurt too much, it comes to mind every time I see beautiful flowers in a bouquet making me wish I could breathe life back into them…

I am empathetic, to flowers!!!! Sometimes I wish I were a flower…

~ by insomniac on June 4, 2011.

One Response to “A Flower at Heart”

  1. how beautiful is this post?

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