Gold by Shereen Abdelqader

I love to wake up extra early on weekend mornings
To witness her special rises
I peak my head through the door
And wonder what’s the weather like today
Somedays she’d smile at my presence
Rays so bright and warm
Roses blossoming at her cheeks
Her voice serenading my approach
I wish I could collect these moments in jars and save them for rainy days
Rainy days that are blue and gloomy
Yet still warm

Still welcoming to whisper pitter patters over my shoulders
For my ears only
There are days, I walk in on brooding storms
Mean and menancing
Ready to swallow all that is in their way
On those days I feel small
And yet wish to be smaller
Small enough to fold myself away
Keep from casualties
And yet ache to be monstrous
Collect her in my palms and flick away all that harms her
Whatever kind of day it is
I’m putty in her hands
Willing to be kneaded
Whatever I can to please
I live for her smiles
Wait days to welcome them home
Try to taunt them to stay longer
But they come and they go
Each time they show up a little weaker
Sometimes they lose the way
But I wait patiently
Try to help lead them when I can
If it is a lighthouse she needs to save her from shipwreck
Light me ablaze
Though I often worry I’ve got it all wrong
Catch her staring beyond the distance, out at sea
And worry I am but her anchor instead
That her torn up sails have been caused by attempts to escape rather than coming back home
I cannot see through the mist
All I can do is try to understand
I know she thinks she’s broken
And that’s ok
We all have bits and pieces broken off
And to me she is a mosiac art piece
Even if that means I end up cutting myself on her sharp edges sometimes
Even if it means that I have to fight my way through the storms sometimes
Because when the storms die
And the clouds part
I am the first to witness those golden rays
And I’ve long accepted
That nothing gold can stay.

Leave a Reply