the more I know the less I comprehend

The summer is everlasting now; even autumn can’t escape it.

The winter is far away, so it was a dull sunny day.

Opening the curtains, watering my plants, thinking about death.

And how I kept my wrists and abdomen fine today.

I filled my cat’s bowl with water.

Brushing my teeth and combing my hair.

I thought about how my problems would be solved if I simply wasn’t there.

They said, “Live through ruins so God gifts you a palace in paradise.”

I said, “I want a hut.”

They said, “God gifted you with life, and it must be cherished.”

I said, “I won’t.”

Here goes the happiness that was once in me.

If only that leap was easy to end it where it all began.

A single leap off the roof of that hospital in Gleem.

It will leave me happy. It will make me beam.

Regaining consciousness back from my thoughts, with music, I was washing the dishes.

You came to me with clumps of your hair, crying, saying, “Look what happened.”

At this moment, I knew for sure that my time to go can’t come soon. 

I don’t have time to process my thoughts and how I think about life.

I should save my power and gift my beams of light to you.

Even if you can’t take it, even if you don’t want it.

Because I am here for you.

Your illness is said to be the strongest, malicious, furious, and aggressive.

But I can’t see the end to be near.

It’s far; it’s not over, you see;

You have a lot of moments.

Left for you with your daughter, your son, husband, and cat.

I say and promise that.

If one end is near, it’s for your suffering; if one end is near, it’s for your tears.

Don’t worry, mother, I am with you. I will forever be near.

We’ll pray, we’ll laugh, we’ll go out; we will laugh till we pass out.

Every time I think about death, I think about you and how I shall never leave you.

Every day is worth waking up just to hug you, clean the house, and bake you a cake.

I’d give it all away—money, time, and the linings of my heart, making it able to beat—just to see you smile, just to make you at ease.

The more I know, the less I comprehend. The more I conclude, the less I get right. And now we are facing a new fight.

You never had a father; your mother was neglectful of you. But I am here, to read you a story to sleep, to make your bed, smelling like flowers, and warming your little feet.

I will cleanse your face from dread after every storm.

It is said that your illness is the strongest.

But for me, it’s nothing compared to your will, my prayers, and the purity of your soul.