By Shaila Moulee

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Your fingerprints are engraved in my soul. This is a letter dedicated to you, my dearest friend.

For you who has forgotten how to cry out loud,
I will shed tears until my eyelids start to fall 
So that you can trace the beads of grief 
That have hardened on my cheeks
And find the utmost strength to make your days count 
As youth is bound to perish when you start to tally what’s left

You used to pluck white orchids and pink chrysanthemums from the garden 
Hand grown by your beloved grandmother who used to fold her hands over her lips 
To muffle her chuckle as she peeked through the curtained windows,
Watching you passionately sing into trembling flower buds.
You told them “Don’t be afraid, you carry the drops shed by cardinals’ wings in the pouring rain.
Though gray clouds obscure the setting sun, tomorrow has yet to blossom.”

Can you recall your grandfather propping a ladder against the guava tree
While you buried the soles of your feet into the dampened soil?
Your head rose with each foot’s thud against the wooden steps
While his fingers roamed through raindrop-ravaged leaves.
You held your breath until your tear-filled eyes met his own brimmed with love. 
He gently flicked the paper airplanes caught on thick branches, 
Each splintered to pieces as it crash landed on the shores of grief 
Once you, my sweet child, had grown old without noticing yesterday had passed.

If I told you that you’ll soon get tired of living, 
But will do anything to keep yourself alive 
On days you feel burdened with the heaviness of a breath 
Caught between your lips, 
Would you think less of me? 

If I told you that time will soon flee
From wrinkled palms that cradle your gentle face
And its warmth too shall fade from your dimpled cheeks,
Would you no longer be in a hurry to grow up, my love? 

Sooner or later, you’ll find yourself searching 
Through the endless folds of your forehead 
Until your fingertips unearth the kiss
That was once planted on the crown of your head.
Till then, sow the seeds of love into the depths of your heart
Whenever your soul grows tired of the dark 
And you are left with no choice,
But to tuck yourself into a bed that remains empty
The cold sheets a reminder of who was lost.

Tell me, am I foolish to leave flower pots on the windowsill
In hopes of conjuring a pair of hands from beneath the soil
Into the small garden that I have created for myself? 

Tell me, am I silly for folding the pages of my diary
Into paper boats instead of paper airplanes 
Because the evening skies are tainted by gloom every so often
And I am afraid my prayers won’t reach you before it’s too late.
If they happened to get stuck on prickly branches, 
I certainly wouldn’t know what to do 
As there’s no one willing to climb up the timeworn tree 
And meet my eyes with tenderness overflowing in their own,
Telling me it’s alright to fall apart through the nights that exhaust my soul.

So promise me that you will hand feed love to yourself 
In each passing moment when you feel as though you’re unworthy. 
As the thrum of rain drowns out the melodies that you will soon start to forget, 
Listen to the rhythm of your feet and the uneven pattern of your breath 
For you’ve worked hard to mend the hourglass that has broken into a thousand pieces.
No one will blame you for taking a deep breath in those unpleasant days 
As pink lotuses too exist in muddy water but remain unstained.

Some days you will wonder how you crossed the river
On a paper canoe torn by each pebble thrown into the water. 
How can you find your way when footprints on the shoreline fade in the heavy downpour
And you’re left to stir the waves with clenched fists?  

Some nights you will wonder how you curled up in a hollow tree 
And dreamt about the moon who remains still in a sea of white pearls 
While hundreds of ashen clouds sail past him without uttering a single word
As they consume the vibrant glow of his heart to enliven their own.

But you must believe me when I say you are capable of much more 
For a candle shall never stop burning at the core of your soul.
Even if the ripples of a boundless sea grow in your heart 
And the sunlight gets trapped in your eyelashes.
Within you, my dear, is a home that I can never return to 
As I have painted a portrait myself anew
And hung it on the walls of a house built on a road unfamiliar to you
As yours is eclipsed by nostalgia’s shade.
So if you ever lose your bearings on a journey in search of myself, 
I will fly lanterns in the skies of tomorrow and sail paper boats  
On the stream forever flowing between our hearts.

Process

I had revisited photographs of my childhood to wrap myself in the warmth of my late grandparents. And upon recapturing youthful memories scattered around my heart, I decided to write a letter to my younger self once I saw her getting overwhelmed by the passing of time.