(عنوان):
لا تنتظروني على رصيف العُمر، فقد غيّرت عنواني، وأضعت الطريق عمداً، وجلست أراقب الأيام، لأني سئمت اللحاق بكل شيء، فإلى متى ونحن نركض خلف الحياة؟ وما الذي سوف يحدث لو جلسنا قليلاً لننتظر أرواحنا، ونرتب فوضى مشاعرنا، ثم استقبلنا الدنيا كلها بصدرٍ رحب؟!
(انتظار):
في حياة كل شخصٍ منا (كرسي انتظار)، قد نعرف صاحبه، أو لا نعرفه، لكنه يظل دائماً «غير شاغر» إلا للشخص الوحيد المعني !
وفي بعض الأحيان؛ قد لا يكون الانتظار محصوراً بشخص، ربما يكون بخبر، أو أمنية، أو حدث معين، أو رسالة تأخرت حتى تصل إلينا.
(بريد مؤجل):
على سطح مكتبي رسائل كثيرة لم تُكتب بعد، رسائل بلا مُرسل إليه، أحياناً أكتبها لنفسي أو (للعفاريت) لا يهم !
ما يهم دائماً في أي رسالة، هي أن تكون صادقة، لا تحمل زيفاً أو تنميقاً ولا تتجمّل كثيراً، فأصدق الرسائل التي نكتبها هي تلك التي تشبهنا ولا يقرأها أحد.
(الوقت):
علمونا أن الوقت كالسيف، إن لم نقطعه قطعنا، ولربما مزقنا، ولكنه في ذات الوقت صديقنا «المشغول جداً»، نجده حينما نلتزم بمواعيده، ويتركنا بلا رحمة عندما نتأخر عليه.
كنت أنتظر طوال حياتي أن ألتقيه (في الموعد)، ولكن وعلى ما يبدو أن ساعتي (مخربطة) تماماً مثل أفكاري.
(رفّ في الذاكرة):هل أخبركم بسِر عني؛ في ذاكرتي (رفّ كامل) مخصص لذكرياتي الجميلة، لأوقات عشتها ولن أنساها ما حييت، ولوجوه غابت ولم أنسها أبداً، ولضحكات ما زلت أسمع صداها، ولأشخاص أحببتهم وفارقونا، وعلى نفس الرفّ، وضعت رسائل لم تُرسل، وكلمات لم أقلها أو أكتبها، ومواقف تمنيت لو عاد بي الزمان لأغيرها، وركن صغير لصور في خيالي لم تلتقطها عدسة مصور مُحترف، لأنها مطبوعة في قلبي.
(رف ذكرياتي ثقيل جداً؛ لكنه يهتز عند أول لحظة حنين).
(رسالة):
إلى من لا يعرف كيف يعيش دون ورقة وقلم؛ أكتب لكم هذه الرسالة وأنا أرتدي (بيجاما المُثقفين)، وأرتشف قهوة كان يفترض أن تكون ساخنة، لأني كنت مشغولة بتعديل فاصلة في سطر لن يقرأه أحد !
جنونكم يا معشر الكُتّاب جميل؛ لكنه مُرهق، فأنتم تحبون الحياة على الورق أكثر من الواقع، وتعتقدون أن إعادة الصياغة ممكنة حتى (خارج النص) !
(بين السطور):
لا تقلقوا؛ لن أغلق باب هذا المقال، بل سأتركه موارباً لكم، فقد يمر أحدكم ذات مساء وهو يحمل فكرة، أو رسالة، أو أغنية، أو وجعاً، أو حنيناً، ويريد أن يكتب هنا بالنيابة عن قلبه.
سأكون هُنا؛ أقرأ، وأستمع، وأتفهم مشاعركم، ثم أصفق لكم.
يُتبع ....
تابع قناة عكاظ على الواتساب
(title):
Don't wait for me on the sidewalk of life, for I have changed my address, deliberately lost my way, and sat watching the days, for I am tired of chasing after everything. How long will we keep running after life? What would happen if we sat for a moment to wait for our souls, to organize the chaos of our feelings, and then welcomed the whole world with open arms?!
(Waiting):
In the life of each of us, there is a "waiting chair." We may know its owner, or we may not, but it always remains "unoccupied" except for the one person concerned!
Sometimes, waiting may not be limited to a person; it could be for news, a wish, a specific event, or a message that has been delayed in reaching us.
(Deferred Mail):
On my desk, there are many letters that have not yet been written, letters without a recipient. Sometimes I write them to myself or to "the spirits," it doesn't matter!
What always matters in any letter is that it should be sincere, free of deceit or embellishment, and not overly polished. The truest letters we write are those that resemble us and are not read by anyone.
(Time):
They taught us that time is like a sword; if we don't cut it, it will cut us, and perhaps tear us apart. Yet at the same time, it is our "very busy" friend, who we find when we stick to its appointments and leaves us mercilessly when we are late.
I have waited my whole life to meet it "on time," but it seems that my clock is completely "messed up," just like my thoughts.
(Shelf in Memory): Let me tell you a secret about myself; in my memory, there is a "full shelf" dedicated to my beautiful memories, to moments I lived and will never forget as long as I live, to faces that have disappeared but I have never forgotten, to laughs whose echoes I still hear, and to people I loved who have left us. On the same shelf, I placed letters that were never sent, words I never said or wrote, and situations I wished I could go back in time to change, along with a small corner for images in my imagination that were never captured by a professional photographer's lens, because they are imprinted in my heart.
(My memories' shelf is very heavy; but it shakes at the first moment of nostalgia).
(Message):
To those who do not know how to live without a piece of paper and a pen; I write you this message while wearing the "intellectuals' pajamas," sipping coffee that was supposed to be hot, because I was busy adjusting a comma in a line that no one will read!
Your madness, oh writers, is beautiful; but it is exhausting, for you love life on paper more than in reality, and you believe that rewriting is possible even "out of context"!
(Between the Lines):
Don't worry; I will not close the door of this article, but I will leave it ajar for you, for one of you may pass by one evening carrying an idea, or a message, or a song, or pain, or nostalgia, and wants to write here on behalf of their heart.
I will be here; reading, listening, and understanding your feelings, then applauding you.
To be continued...
Don't wait for me on the sidewalk of life, for I have changed my address, deliberately lost my way, and sat watching the days, for I am tired of chasing after everything. How long will we keep running after life? What would happen if we sat for a moment to wait for our souls, to organize the chaos of our feelings, and then welcomed the whole world with open arms?!
(Waiting):
In the life of each of us, there is a "waiting chair." We may know its owner, or we may not, but it always remains "unoccupied" except for the one person concerned!
Sometimes, waiting may not be limited to a person; it could be for news, a wish, a specific event, or a message that has been delayed in reaching us.
(Deferred Mail):
On my desk, there are many letters that have not yet been written, letters without a recipient. Sometimes I write them to myself or to "the spirits," it doesn't matter!
What always matters in any letter is that it should be sincere, free of deceit or embellishment, and not overly polished. The truest letters we write are those that resemble us and are not read by anyone.
(Time):
They taught us that time is like a sword; if we don't cut it, it will cut us, and perhaps tear us apart. Yet at the same time, it is our "very busy" friend, who we find when we stick to its appointments and leaves us mercilessly when we are late.
I have waited my whole life to meet it "on time," but it seems that my clock is completely "messed up," just like my thoughts.
(Shelf in Memory): Let me tell you a secret about myself; in my memory, there is a "full shelf" dedicated to my beautiful memories, to moments I lived and will never forget as long as I live, to faces that have disappeared but I have never forgotten, to laughs whose echoes I still hear, and to people I loved who have left us. On the same shelf, I placed letters that were never sent, words I never said or wrote, and situations I wished I could go back in time to change, along with a small corner for images in my imagination that were never captured by a professional photographer's lens, because they are imprinted in my heart.
(My memories' shelf is very heavy; but it shakes at the first moment of nostalgia).
(Message):
To those who do not know how to live without a piece of paper and a pen; I write you this message while wearing the "intellectuals' pajamas," sipping coffee that was supposed to be hot, because I was busy adjusting a comma in a line that no one will read!
Your madness, oh writers, is beautiful; but it is exhausting, for you love life on paper more than in reality, and you believe that rewriting is possible even "out of context"!
(Between the Lines):
Don't worry; I will not close the door of this article, but I will leave it ajar for you, for one of you may pass by one evening carrying an idea, or a message, or a song, or pain, or nostalgia, and wants to write here on behalf of their heart.
I will be here; reading, listening, and understanding your feelings, then applauding you.
To be continued...


