Open Letter To Love

Here’s to our past and present, and to the serenity of your presence.

Image: Rectangular leaning mirror with brass colored frame. Photo by Alex Lopez on Unsplash.

To Sudan, to my land, to 2011 and the brown eyed boy where it all began.

To the horse rider, to the pretty hands who felt like everything I already knew. I talked to Allah about you. He still sent us down different paths. He showed me that anything done out of fear of the unfamiliar won’t last. But still, here’s to you. Because familiarity is also love. Here’s to me being too much and you not being enough. Here’s to the differences we will never rise above.

And here’s to the soft and soft spoken, the quiet to my storm. I broke the law to feel your warmth. It broke my heart to see you torn. Thank you for showing me how much one person can care about me. Here’s to the world letting you find me. Here’s to the tenderness you let surround me.

And here’s to the one who taught me that to love isn’t to own, I never wanted you to be mine — I will always love you as a stand alone. Here’s to your upper lip, your no-Cupid’s-bow. How you walk this world like there’s nothing you don’t already know. And there’s nothing you don’t already know. Here’s to your glory. Here’s to your glow.

Here’s once more to the one where it all began. Words fail me when it’s you at hand. Our love is larger than words and maybe that’s why language always fails. Or maybe I just can’t write an ongoing tale. But here’s to the laughter we share. Here’s to every postcard you ever mailed. Here’s to our past and present, and to the serenity of your presence.

And here’s to the woman in the mirror. It’s been a long ride. I’m glad you’re realizing that nothing you are can be something to hide. I’m glad you’re learning to choose love. To rise above what you’re above. I’m glad you stopped seeking what you already have, because you’ve always been enough. Here’s to the twinkle in your eyes, to every tear you’ve cried, how you brave through every tough time, breathe through every goodbye. Here’s to choosing to take what you’ve been given and build a good life.

Here’s to me, to mine. And to you, watching this window into my mind. There’s pieces of me in each line. If you seek peace, peace is what you’ll find.

Just follow the right signs.
Just follow the right minds.

Image: Dinan Alasad looks into the camera. She is wearing red lipstick, dangling earrings, and her hair is pulled into a half-ponytail.

Dinan Alasad is a 21 year old Sudanese woman who was born and raised in Khartoum before leaving home for university in 2017. She’s been writing in both English and Arabic for most of her life. Dinan writes about many things: politics, love, womanhood and Maths and she mostly writes to archive. Sharing her writing is a rare occurrence but she is hoping to do it more often through platforms which, like The Drinking Gourd, cater to writers of her background.