A Farewell Letter to You
Letters
My baby, here on earth
showed me what my heart was worth
Dearest,
An ocean separates us. The ribbons once attached to our wrists stretch longer than the time we’ve spent together. Where the tides are commanded by the waning moon along with its soldiers, the winds. I go to its shore and pray a solemn plea. Under twinkling skies, I am a beggar. A broken bracelet, an indigo flower, and an avocado. I burn your gifts as humble offerings and I say with a voice barely a tremor beneath the fragile sand plains;
Oh great moon, hear my pleas and grant this wish. Let the seas carry this message to her and only to her.
I let the ocean swallow my grief — I let it take my memory of you. And I allow this exchange; for this is the only way I know to reach you.
Your birthday is nearing and my last letter is left unanswered. The bougainvilleas continue to grow in the garden beside the house despite my lack of care. I long to ask about your well-being. I implore this query to ease my own raging thoughts; had I always been this selfish?
If you allow yourself to read this and unfasten your restraints, let me ask you this, dearest — do questions about my abrupt departure probe your mind? I struggle to find an explanation past my previous one. But that is simply a pathetic excuse for my own grievance. An irrational fear surrounds my body, is it evident in my writing? I write often now. Not all are addressed to you, and not all are for you but this letter is. For the last time, this is for you. You are the muse. Not quite mine anymore, but a muse nonetheless.
For a long time, an enormous hearth in my heart was the place where your image found solace in. This fury has since died down. It has turned into a tranquil flame instead, which burns steady prickles of platonic love and sincere care. Will you forgive me for destroying this fire? The inferno that had kept us both warm, will you grant me the chance to give it to someone else?
A synergy of reasons muddles the truth of my goodbye. I withhold these reasons because, for a devastating moment after my confession, I was upset that you weren’t upset. I expected anger. I expected mountains of questions. Were you not cross with me? Your kindness blurs your honesty. For all that’s worth I wished you had been more honest with me. The contents of my last letter remain true to its words. But there is one reason I have failed to convey. Between the two of us, I have always been the braver one. But during that fateful night of writing my parting with you, I was scared. I was scared to lose a bright light and a reliable pillar; so deliberately at that.
The truth of the matter is I cannot love anymore. Love has morphed into a language unknown to me. It is a part that is left unwritten and bare. I cannot phantom this horror. I cannot love myself. How much more could I love you?
The sirens screech their songs and the ships dock the harbor; everything is in place but this is my secret. I cannot love because I do not know it. I care, and I care deeply but to love deeply? That is a great demand I cannot fulfill. At least not now.
This place has changed me. The oceans are a lullaby and fairies wave good morning. A magical town that I’ve prayed to be welcomed in. This is a leap that I so proudly took but it seems to have cost losing you. Dearest, you are most precious, I am delighted with your understanding. That is why I want to thank you. For all you’ve done. You say you regret not helping, but you’ve helped plenty. By letting go you have allowed me to give this warmth to someone else, and I gave it to this place — I gave it to my work. Thank you for allowing. Time and time again, thank you.
I’m afraid these are all of the things left to be said. I may never see you again. I wish you well and good health. I have embraced my life here, my past no longer binds my body and my qualms no longer bind yours. Tell me this if you ever decide to answer this letter, do you regret staying despite my cruelty? A simple yes or no is all I want. I guess even in our farewell I am difficult. Goodbye, dearest. You have served as an anchor, the golden sun and I await your future success. Until then, read my books, okay?
Most gracious and sincere,
Poet
Afterword
Thank you, write under the moon for welcoming me to your publication! To officiate, I wrote this piece inspired by the moon and Mitski’s song, My Love My All Mine.
If you’re still reading, check out my other works here.
2024, Jafiyah
