Secrets – Part 2

Part 1 | Part 2

From inside a circle of people, he stood up. But to me, he rather stood out. I leaned my head slightly to the right, playfully put my hands around my waist, and followed by compassionate looks, I emitted a sincere smile. Ibhog fumbled his hands in his pockets, shrugged his shoulders joyfully, and grinned. Then sighed. Then drew me loving eyes. Hopeful eyes. Then sad again!

I’ve always believed that healing my deep insecurities would only come by revealing them to a different heart than mine. That my fears would tumble down if my army had more than one soldier. That my life will be easier if I had someone else’s arms to pull back into whenever hits get stronger than me. That being alone in this world, fearing alone, doubting alone, crying alone and even laughing alone, would be condemned, had life itself been symbolized in a person – to judge – of some measure.

That is why, secrets, and though were at times on the verge of breaking me and ibhog completely apart, made us who we are now. When we look into each others’ eyes, we see transparent figures, we see hues of angelic colors, we see no faces or masks, we see no walls or bricks, but, we see souls, we see souls with all the peace, the composure and the utter silence they shine.

When you’re holding on to a secret, it holds you down. You feel crippled and cringed. You do not feel free. There’s always a bar. There’s always a line. There’s always a hand clamping down on your fountain. It suffocates you. It makes you think more and speak less than your companions. And it intimidates you out of opening up to anybody. You look at the world from a small narrow window.

Until at one day. One cloudy day. One fateful hour. You find yourself standing under the shadows of an old tree. Stranded in a park with dying leaves falling all over around you. And with each gust of air. With each whimper of pain. With each tear twinkling on your face. You feel utterly bewildered and vulnerable. But mostly, you crave redemption from that bar. From that line. You convince yourself in a whim, that it’s about time you cross over. It’s about time you .. tell.

Ibraheem was there for me when I wanted out under my tree. He was my salvation. I spent two years crushing down my fears with the axe of his love, understanding and compassion. He was the stranger fellow we all wish we had on a plane up in the sky. Eternal conversations. Heavenly feelings between the clouds. With the safety that it all goes away once we land down. When we land, all takes place and form again. Fear returns. Doubt reigns. Reality creeps.

Me and ibhog. We never landed. We are up there in the clouds. All the time.

And that was why he smiled when he could see me. I picked him up from the earth. And we flew all over atop of the world again. He sighed of relief. He hoped we’d stay in our white cloud. But just when he was about to speak with me. He remembered.

Reality. He was in the room. He was at work. He could still hear shrieks of people all around. He could feel the earth below his own feet. So, he wearily looked at me with sad eyes that are tired of life and cooed: “Please be real soon, Noha”. His watered eyes filled mine with tears when he writhed inside before uttering again: ” .. please.”

I walked across the room, reached very close to him. My small figure against his masculine form. I tip-toed. Put my hand on his cheek. Smiled with my sagged eyes. Kissed his face. And said: “I will be ya Ibraheem”.

“Very soon”

“Very very soon”