Memories are like the passing wind

It passes us through the phases

But it doesn’t come back the same

The same smell, same colour, same temperature

It won’t be the same

I acknowledged my nightmares as the passing wind

The punches they gave, the stares and laughs

It is still in my head

It is fear that stays but not in the same way as they used to be

And when the fear grows, it locks my movements from being free

And that I would never be the same ever again

The passing wind forces me to create a box of voices that repetitively plays in the hallows of my


Some would say, “This is the end for you”

And some would say, “You have to work it through”

It causes a dynamic confusion in my decision making

I wanna discard the box of voices that lied to me of what a life ahead of me if I die

And so I will

Though, I know it will kept being created

But I will destroy those voices

And I will create a good passing wind

Now, here I am telling you

This will have a stop

This might still go on

But this passing wind will stop

And it depends on how I find a way to stop it

Because the afterlife is not a place I wanna go

The sound of the wind

That was all I could hear

The soft sound

That blew past my ears

As if people were whispering

Saying “Thank you for living”

“Thank you for breathing”

The embracement of the wind

Puts me to sleep

And not wanting to think

Nor bother what they think

While I sleep in the clouds

With the wind, I’m breathing

With the wind, today, I win


-Alami Hawla

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