This is no love poem

This is no love poem;
I wrote this
to remind myself that this heart of mine
has not been aching since forever,
to remind myself that your leaving
has not taken love along its side.

How often you have told me
that I was too young to love as much as I pretended
and how long I tried to convince you
that the older I got, the less I could remember the taste of sweetness upon your lips,
the less I remembered the fear of losing
and the fear of forever.

You see; today I woke up
drenched in dreams of things that never were mine;
hollow heart and no thoughts at all,
as if all we had lived through had been merely dreams.

Some people abuse drugs,
I abused love;
so much so that I became addicted to your recognition,
I craved your arms;
first only at night,
then every second of my days.

If only I had been weak enough to give up,
maybe I’d be lying next to other rotting bodies;
to addicts of all-kinds,
until the sickness of love had reduced my bones to dust.

This is no love poem,
but I wish it was.

Jehona Thaqi© (selfportrait)

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Do not cry, my boy

Dearest son; 

you are the greatest gift of all,

despite sleepless nights

and the times you cry 

– seemingly without reason; 

or reasons I do yet not understand,

when I feel so helpless and sad

and my silent tears fall upon your soft cheeks.

Do not cry, my boy,

for your mother is holding you tight

to the body that suddenly became strong;

within the arms that do not hide behind the back anymore;

caressing your head with the finger that once danced upon falling hopes.

Do not cry, my boy,

for your mother is here to protect you,

the way you protect your mother from sorrow and heart break; 

you – this small little boy – are the greatest gift of all,

and if this world falls apart

and all my hopes are shattered,

I will hold on to the memories we are creating.

Do not cry, my boy;

but if you do,

even fifty years from now,

come running to your mother

so I can hold you

and mend your soft beating heart.

– Jehona Thaqi© I love you Noar

If I should die

If I should die
bury me in a field of nothingness,
where flowers do not bloom
and the earth is dry.

If I should die
do not cry,
for death is nothing but part of this life.

If I should die
tell my mother I loved her
and my father, too,
tell my brother I loved him
beyond all the greatness of this world.

If I should die
tell yourself
that you were all I ever wished for.

If I should die
forgive me for my wrongs,
I had the dreams of a child
but dreams last only until they’re shattered,
broken,
forgotten like the dead.

If I should die
forget.

Forget that I lived for your love
and that you filled my lungs with air,
forget the sound of my voice
at night; when I said hold me, but you were too far,
forget my writings, all of them,
for I signed everything with your name,
forget the tears I cried
and the memories you broke.

But remember to visit me,
once
after ten years,
and see how I turned nothingness into everything you have ever dreamed of,
see how there are flowers sprouting out of my grave,
and witness how your tongue falls silent for the first time in your life.

Remember
that you can bury not only dead bodies,
but dead souls, too.

Jehona Thaqi©

To my husband

I write
whenever I am miserable
and my heart cries in silence
for the empty seats of love within me,
when my mind is heavy
with unsaid words 
and negativity towards itself
– then my hand starts writing 
the most beautiful and tragical poems
I could ever think of.

But today I am writing 
out of happiness and love,
with no empty seats left
– a crowd that has come to witness 
the most magical moment of all.

Today I am breathing
– in and out,
slowly inhaling the sweet scent of your skin;
and exhaling in utter calmness
all problems that we have learned to forget with the passing of time.

Today I am content
with everything there is
and with everything there has ever been.

Jehona Thaqi© thank you, husband


A letter to my unborn son

image

Tonight I watched the full moon
from the open window of my room
and it made me think of you.

If we shall meet,
I will hold your body so close to mine
even if you grow up to be a man
two times my size,
I will clench my hands around your skin
and whisper
it is okay.
Do not be ashamed,
ashamed shall be the one who has made your knuckles bleed,
and the one who has made your voice quiver;
tears are no sign of weakness,
my boy,
they are signs of life.
Weep if you need to,
your mother will be here to listen
while healing your scars with love from a mother’s bleeding heart.

My son,
if we shall meet one day
I will tell you this:
your soul is the reflection of the moon
so full and radiant amongst the sky,
and as calm as my heart tonight.
And if the world tries to make you harsh
you will come running to your mother,
for I will hold your soft hands
and tell you stories of the times I almost became what the world wanted me to be.
You will seek shelter underneath my love,
and I will give to you all I have,
from soul to soul,
I will tell you
to be man enough to be
soft.

Jehona Thaqi©

Endless

I never knew
that love could
shrink
and expand
like the very skin of mine
– stretching into the forms
closest to a Goddess;
growing –
until it fits two lives within one body.

I never knew
that love could
expand
and shrink
like withering flowers
– drying out upon this harsh earth;
until their petals become one with the ground they sleep on.

I never knew
that loving was an endless story
of ups and downs,
of growing and shrinking,
of falling and standing up
– constantly giving
and taking.

I never knew
that you could get tired of love
or the absence of it;
but as soon as I felt love
with its utmost purity
– with its sometimes ugly smile
but its taste of heavenly sweetness –
I knew that love
would stay;
even if it is long gone.

Jehona Thaqi©

Cigarette

Today I smoked a cigarette,

the one you used to smoke when your heart was aching,

hoping that it would calm my heart, too;

but the poison filled my lungs and I coughed and grasped for air,

lost within the smoke of my very first cigarette.

I pressed it softly against my small lips,

and in agony of breaking it, I inhaled slowly;

I did not know how to hold it,

just like I never knew how to hold your hands,

maybe I should not have held you too tightly, 

I think today, 

while smoking my very first cigarette.

At the end of it, it does not taste too bad,

the slight burning at the end of my throat feels familiar,

just like your words,

or the lack of them,

for even now, I do not know which was worse,

when you did not talk and left me restless at night,

or when your words burried my tongue and left me speechless.

My very first cigarette comes to an end,

and I watch the sun set underneath the clouds,

sad and lonely I shut my eyes,

how good it would be if you remembered me,

the way you never forget your cigarette.

Jehona Thaqi©

I took this picture from my kitchen window, in sad and lonely hours. Loneliness can be a devastating war inbetween the heart and mind of an individual. 

A letter to my unborn child

There is life growing 
within the spaces of my body I once despised;
a new heart beating against the insecurities of my own,
fullfilling me with strength
I did not know existed.

Dear child,
you are still as small as a rose petal,
yet for your mother you are greater than anything this world contains;
for you have filled my body with life
and you are nourishing my spirit with seeds of love.

Dear child;
I keep pressing my hands against my stomach,
softly – 
wishing you were already within my hands,
but good things take time;
so I will wait patiently until the day we meet
and I will kiss your cheeks and small hands
until your cries soften and you fall asleep.

I wish my words were enough to express the love I feel towards you,
dearest child,
but my tongue is unable to speak what my heart has felt
since the day I knew you existed.

Within my twenty years upon this world
I have never felt stronger
until you became my very source of happiness.

Jehona Thaqi© all rights reserved

Only a woman

You thought I was only a woman,

but you forgot the strength

that flows through my veins and rushes throughout my body,

with bones of steel and healing skin,

for scars tend to grow stronger each time you cut

through women like me;

merely women –

whose strength you tought you had buried 

with breaking their souls.

You thought I was only a woman,

but you forgot whose hands have raised you

and whose love has nourished the seeds of the man you are today;

do you remember who held you

when your soul ached and your voice shivered,

she, too, is a woman,

who you considered less

the more she gave to you.

You thought I was only a woman,

but you forgot that I am a raging sea,

calm – just before the storm arrives;

but powerful and unapologetic when it comes to being

only

a woman.

Jehona Thaqi© [my drawing of the albanian singer Era Istrefi; https://www.instagram.com/strefie/ ]

Patience

It was a late night in a quiet city,
the winter-breeze dancing around the façade of our house

which was enlightened by the mellow moon-shine

and covered in freshly fallen snow.

I waited;

the candle-light flickered upon the silverware and wine glasses,

until the candles burned out;

and the light diminished upon a table full of things you loved to eat.

I waited;

sitting on the couch you had bought for us,

wearing the dress you loved,

all black upon my pale skin;

my eyes fixed on the clock,

my ears listening to the silence that seemed so violent within this small house,

my hands pressed upon my thighs,

agressively; in order to stay awake.

I waited;

you said you would be there,

as you did so often;

and when you could not make it,

you laughed, charmingly;

sometimes we make mistakes

you would say and kiss me on my forehead

and I would laugh, too;

the table still arranged,

it is alright, love.

I waited; 

but you did not come

until the first sun-rays shone through the curtains,

you laughed, and kissed me on my forehead,

the dress still upon my pale skin,

I laughed, too,

and left.

I had waited

too long.

Jehona Thaqi© (my drawing of Nera Z., you can follow her on Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/nera.z/ )