The doomed city (1)

It was neither a full circle nor a crescent tonight, somewhere in between, but the luminosity radiated by the moon was enough to light up her bedroom through that huge glass window. There were long shadowy tress in the lawn below, the shadow of their leaves was being drawn on the wall by the illuminating moonlight in the backdrop of darkened night. All the artificial light sources were turned off. It was just the moon and her. Besides the presence of someone most magnanimous.

She was on prayer mat. The night had fallen deep beyond its half life. Clad in a white chadar which was covering her from head to toe. Her palms were raised for du'a. Head bowed in silence. Like so many other nights, she was not sure what she wanted, but she was sure He knew. So she was quiet. Knowing her tears and her heart were already speaking for her.

Sometimes the pain is too deep, too huge to explain. It is simply felt and transmitted across to someone who accepts. Accepts and realize. Hear and console. Comforts and remedies.

She was in safe hands so it was easier to weep, to cry her heart out, even then she could not forget what happened. She could not stop to miss the bliss she had and no more. The happiness that was gone afar. The companion she had lost and survived. And the pain of survival was grandiose.

You weep when the pain is more than you could bear. Sometimes it feels you will not survive, you will give in the struggle to carry on and sometimes even the struggle is lost but life goes on.

After a whole year after losing him , she was surviving. That is where she felt helpless. Because that is where she was losing the battle.