The Barren Lands Of My Heart
She sat on a greenish boulder beside a lake beneath a maple tree. Her soft little hands were trembling with the weight of the letter she was holding, a letter of goodbye from someone who once used to sit next to her on this same boulder. They used to compete on who could throw rocks farthest into the lake. In her mind, she was lost in a typhoon on a wrecked ship with no signs of shore.” Tears kept running down her eyes from her cheeks to her chin, later turning into white shiny pearls dropping on the letter, blurring the words:
“My love, you are the sole beacon of fire, Fervor of my life, Elixir of my soul’s Obscurity. I forget how to breathe in your absence, I’m just a body whose soul is entrapped within yours. Each night I spend in this dugout staring at the stars, the brightest of them reminds me of you. The cold dazzling wind in my ear whispers your name. I close my eyes and see you in my arms, as if Vega itself has landed on Earth. Sometimes fire shells land near my dugout. Every day feels as if it’s going to be my last. It does not unnerve me, for love of my soil steels my heart.”
“It ignites a fire of passion in me, laying down my life for my country, so that I can honor the oath to which this uniform bound me. And the thoughts of me returning to you bloom a garden of daisies in the barren lands of my heart. If death finds me, when we are apart, I promise you to accompany you as a sheltering maple tree beside the lake where we sit, play and laugh. As a full moon brightening your darkness, as night jasmine blossoming a fragrance around you, as the rainbow that comes after rain. As the spring that comes after the autumn, and as a melody of love that adds rhythm to your a capella. If Death takes me away from you, I shall return to you as my letters of love to you, and if my corpse is placed in front of you, just know I’m standing right beside you, grasping your shoulder, holding you close to me, and like a brave lady, accept my keepsakes of valor with a smile.”
Amidst the typhoon on the wrecked ship, she was moving towards shore, but suddenly someone called her name. The shore disappeared, she began to drown. She screamed, struggled to reach the surface, but it was no help. She fell deeper and deeper, but it wasn’t merely a physical ocean, it was the oceans of her sorrow, which engulfed her and her world, bit by bit.
“Amber, Amber! The ambulance is here!” said her childhood friend Anne. Anne paused, looking at the ambulance. “He kept his word. He came back.”
Fiza Amir is an emerging writer, poet, and medical student from Pakistan. Her work explores the intersection of empathy, memory, and the human condition. She has been published in Fevers of the Mind and Pandemonium Journal.