عُـلا

“And when at last you find someone to whom you feel you can pour out your soul, you stop in shock at the words you utter— they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless and feeble from being kept in the small cramped dark inside you so long.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

“How do we forgive ourselves for all the things we did not become?”
― David "Doc" Luben

“قلْ لي.. لماذا اخترتَني؟
وأخذتَني بيديكَ من بين الأنامْ
ومشيتَ بي..
ومشيتَ.. ثمّ تركتَني
كالطفل يبكي في الزِّحامْ
إن كنتَ - يا مِلحَ المدامعِ - بِعتَني
فأقلّ ما يَرِثُ السكوتُ مِنَ الكلامْ
هُوَ أن تؤشّرَ مِن بعيدٍ بالسلامْ
أن تُغلقَ الأبوابَ إنْ
قررتَ ترحل في الظلامْ
ما ضرَّ لو ودَّعتَنِي؟
ومنحتَني فصلَ الخِتامْ؟
حتى أريحَ يديَّ من
تقليبِ آخر صفحةٍ
من قصّتي..
تلك التي
يشتدُّ أبْيَضُها فيُعميني
إذا اشتدَّ الظلامْ
حتى أنامْ
حتى أنامْ”
― ميسون السويدان

“I am constantly trying to communicate something incommunicable, to explain something inexplicable, to tell about something I only feel in my bones and which can only be experienced in those bones. Basically it is nothing other than this fear we have so often talked about, but fear spread to everything, fear of the greatest as of the smallest, fear, paralyzing fear of pronouncing a word, although this fear may not only be fear but also a longing for something greater than all that is fearful.”
― Franz Kafka, Letters to Milena