(artwork by Irina Tall)
“My heart is a museum of everything I loved.”
I read.
“But it also harbours the silent tombs of every loss that has carved a hollow in my being.”
I wrote.
Under the night sky, I traverse the winding paths of my arteries, guided by the chambers of
my heart. In my search I seek the comforting presence of the three alley cats from College
Streets, a bond that holds an intimate place in my soul. Yet, my mind wanders astray - to
another chamber, where my adoration for the cathedral clock resides, a sentinel protecting the city where sweat is more valued than the anguish of existence.
But before I could immerse myself in the beating heart of the cathedral clock, the wind
intervened, carrying me away from the comforting chambers of my heart, propelling me to an uncertain destination in the vastness of my thoughts.
The tales of my heart are boundless, with each chamber brimming with treasures more
precious than what the team of Carter could ever unearth.
But one chamber stops my stroll.
"Your beauty is as resplendent as the moon" he whispered, his voice reverberating in my
ears.
"Yet, I am but a barren landscape without the warmth and light of the sun,” I heard a soft
sigh, “Will you fill the desolation of my craters with blooms and make me feel alive?"
"You are already human, even in your supposed emptiness."
I flee from the conversation, pretending as if the words had never reached my ears. Holding
onto these moments feels like clasping phantoms as if they were ephemeral figments of my imagination that had succumbed to the clutches of oblivion. Yet, I continue to clutch them close to my heart, as though they were flickering embers of a fire that should have been extinguished long ago.
His touch, gentle as a whisper, skated over my fractured flesh, and his gaze, laced with
concern, reflected his disapproving frown. With a worried voice, he lamented about the
passage my pen had penned.
He made a dent in my bones
Not my heart
where death shall erase my agony
but the bones
where I shall still be familiar,
even in my deep, deep slumber.
“Bones?” he asked, confused.
I mustered a smile, trying to alleviate his worry, "Don't fret, it's nothing to get worked up
about.”
My flesh would surrender to the cleansing fire, ash disappearing like whispers in the wind.
Yet, my bones would persist, bearing the scars of my torment within their very essence. As
my body crumbles to dust, the echoes of my pain reverberate through time’s corridors,
immortalising my suffering for archaeologists of the future to uncover.
“Love killed them.”
No, the memories did.
It slithered into their lives disguised as affection and devotion, slowly poisoning their hearts
with its deceptive embrace.
I aimlessly roamed searching for the chamber where treasured memories of my companions
lay dormant, desperately craving to find refuge in their embrace. I wish to feel their warm
arms encircling me, their melodic laughter dancing upon me like a refreshing breeze to clear
the dark clouds from my mind.
What I discovered was a mountain of sand, bearing witness to the ashes of all the memories I
had lovingly held close. Treasured memories and remorseful recollections had combined to create this towering monument ; their unique essence forever entombed within its granulated grains.
Within the recesses of my heart lurks a desolate landscape, bearing a chilling resemblance to
the ashen remains of Pompeii. The pyroclastic flows and pumice stones weave together a
somber tableau akin to a morbid masterpiece etched upon the city's tragic canvas.
This place, once a thriving abode for the multitude, now stands as a tragic monument to those who succumbed to the catastrophic eruption; their existence entombed like the souls eternally preserved in the city's eternalised embrace.
A graveyard trapped in time.
All dead.
My chambers have set me free, releasing me from their confines as they pitied my weary
mind. Despite being liberated, I cannot help but retrace the chronicles that played out within
my heart.
The echoes of bygone moments flutter through, dancing between memories both joyous and poignant. The chambers of my heart hold the relics of past passions, triumphs, and sorrows in a delicate balance , reminiscent of a museum exhibit, even as they shelter the eternal repose of those souls whose touch once graced my existence like a tranquil burial ground.
My heart shall forever be a paradoxical abode, straddling the realms of a museum and a
cemetery alike.
i shed a tear