The Second Whispers of My Heart to Haifa

Yemenat

Ahmed Saif Hashed

I used to hide the eruption of my burning love and the pains swollen with anguish that pressed deep within my dark depths and secret tunnels. I suppressed them harshly, sealing every outlet as though afraid that even a whisper of love might escape me in the haze of sleep. I stepped out from my inner labyrinth, trying to wear a mask of ordinariness, while in truth my soul was crucified between misery and torment.

I kept my secret until it reached its peak and its furthest cycle. I swallowed my bitterness in silence. I boiled in a cauldron of fire, hiding the flames that coursed through my veins. I muffled the sound of my inner revolt, contained the smoke with care, and left only a channel into bottles of wine, where I could drink alone in secrecy with my incomplete love, suppressed and gagged by my silence.

I was careful that no one should know the depth of my longing, the storm in my chest, the uprising I smothered with tyranny. I concealed what stirred within me from even myself. I forbade silence to hear my silence. I suppressed jealousy, confession, and all that prowled in the depths of my being.

If you, Haifa, were absent from college even for a single day, I would sink into regret for a wasted day. I would fall to the pit of my hell. Your absence would scorch and sear me. My youth would fade and wither. I felt myself dwindling like a candle. I wandered aimlessly in the wilderness of my loss and died of longing until the moment I saw you again and was reborn at first sight.

I trembled, faltered, and panicked when I tried to ask about your well-being or speak to you of