Hymn of Death

Originally written in Arabic, in my poem, "Hymn of Death," I weave a meditation on mortality, remembrance, and the unyielding echo of the human spirit in the face of loss. Through vivid, haunting imagery—standing on the cusp of darkness, gathering whispers of light from the night, and contemplating the silent departure of the soul—this work explores the fragile boundary where life dissolves into eternity. Scenes of repose and surrender unfold—faces etched with sorrow, the gentle act of relinquishing one’s essence into earth’s embrace—while unseen spirits and loved ones drift like shadows in a quiet, unbreakable rhythm. It reflects on the cycles of transition and renewal, emphasizing that even in finality, there exists a sanctuary of comfort—a plush haven where the spirit finds its ultimate peace.

This poem engages deeply with themes of aftermath and resilience, underscoring how memories, stories, and spirits continue to shape our understanding of existence beyond the limits of physical death. It reveals the mystical threads linking the living and departed—whispering of a continuum no moment can sever. The recurring motifs of shadows, tears, and memories evoke an ongoing dialogue between presence and absence, pain and solace, illustrating that love’s enduring bond persists beyond the mortal veil. As darkness and dawn intertwine, mourning and hope cycle eternally, suggesting that even amidst upheaval and loss, what endures can bloom anew—silently, subtly, resiliently.

"Hymn of Death" invites reflection on the silent echoes of our deepest moments—a testament to the spirit’s indomitable resilience. It whispers that even at the edge of life, beyond mortality’s embrace, the eternal song of the human soul persists—a gentle hymn of hope and rebirth rooted in the profound interconnectedness of time, memory, and spirit.

    I stand at the edge of darkness,
    reaching for the last glow of the moon’s light.
    From the night, I gather what remains,
    gazing down at a life vanished in a single breath.
***
    My shadow enfolds me, binding tight—
    and I rest alone,
    filling myself with emptiness,
    while boredom seeps in, like silent rain.
***
    On the bed of farewell, I prepare to leave,
    my sleep merging with waking thoughts.
    A green bird lands on my cradle, wings beating in hush—
    a mystery I cannot grasp.
***
    It enfolds me in its wings, whispering softly:
    "Do not fear—rejoice.
    I will carry you into another realm,
    and be your guide on this voyage."
***
    My soul escapes its coffin—breaking free from its cage,
    clinging to an angel’s wings high in the sky.
    Turning back,
    I see myself—my body laid in soil and water,
    faces heavy with sorrow—
    eyes brimming with tears that fail to see what I see,
    whispering in sadness about all that has passed.
***
    I am the memory, the stories—
    the silent narrative mourning in evening’s lament,
    the echo of my own farewell, fading into time.
***
    Clamor and chaos—dense specters of people—
    upon their shoulders, a coffin of impossible wood.
    The road ahead stretches long and unending…
    it feels like forever, my friend.
***
    Those who bear me now will walk this path at dawn,
    and in time, the chain will turn again—
    all will follow in its quiet, unbreakable rhythm.
***
    Has the trembling begun?
    My companions, bearing my coffin—
    they move in gentle silence toward my eternal sleep,
    to cradle me in the embrace of my plush haven—
    my everlasting refuge, my sanctuary.
***
    A hole in the earth remains eager to hold me—
    recalling the day I departed—humans of clay,
    shutting the door behind.
***
    Darkness sweeps across fleeting moments,
    heavy rain pouring from the sky—
    from cracks in the door, I see faces—
    lost, overwhelmed by departure.
***
    Steps retreat…
    they vanish into shadows, returning home, burdened by loss.
***
    All have gone, and I remain—
    inscriptions of letters and numbers carved upon my grave,
    marking a name that rain will gently wear away—
    etched with the dates of birth and death,
    and verses from poems I once cherished.
***
    Bouquets of lilies lie scattered over my remains,
    fruits of prickly pear and fig fall softly to the ground around me.
***
    I walk into an empty void, filled with whispers of spirits—
    comforting my loneliness on this journey.
    I have mastered the art of listening…
    to echoes of ancient hymns—
    resounding over the first to embrace the void,
    the first to taste death,
    the first travellers without return—
***
    my brother Habil,
    the first martyr,
    the first lament,
    the first blood spilled,
    the first tears shed,
    the first star set in the sky.
***
    My soul slips away from itself—
    chasing shadows,
    running alongside footsteps fading into time.
***
    Leaving behind the course of the wind,
    pursuing spirits soaring beyond illusions.
    Night erases their traces—
    they lose themselves in the chaos of shadows.
***
    I wander through a barren realm—neither life nor death—
    where familiar voices call my name
    and sing of arrival and farewell.
***
    Hands entwined, squeezing wine—
    they prepare a feast of reunion after long absence.
    Joy radiates in their eyes, waving with love and warmth.
***
    I keep walking, glimpsing those claimed by death before me—
    those who carried my coffin,
    I see my cradle,
    I see my grave… I close my eyes and see—
    everything I see.