Poem by Sehma Helaa
I miss that hiss in my heart saying life is a bliss.
I miss that ringing tone in my core, saying suffering is no more.
I miss that pure wide smie,
Easing a perplexed mind,
Saying that odds come once in a while,
And brighter days are ahead.
I miss my yearning for passion
My evening sighs on an empty cushion.
I miss my yearning for a song,
Dancing with soft lyrics,
I miss that tapping hand,
Foreshadowing nothing is wrong.
I miss that desire to dress
And look smart
I miss my craving for fitness,
And the throbbing of a rosy heart.
I miss plodding the hills,
Climbing mountains and picking up daffodils.
God, where is that flame of hope,
By which I live, with which I cope?
God, this is not a reproach to my blurred fate,
This a plead to go through your mercy gate.