Création

Création –Chapter One.

Letting go has never been easy.

---

Aliah was on her way home,
coming back from her day.

She usually walked.
It wasn’t far.
And she liked this moment
even if she felt like dragging her feet,
from exhaustion.

And out of nowhere,
it was thattime again.

She always knew it.
Her soul sensed it.
Her heart sang it.

It starts with a jolt
then the need for loneliness overwhelms her.

It came unexpectedly.
Out of thin air.

At first, she was scared of it.
But she’s more used to it now.

Now
she’s more concerned
that it might go away.

She took a deep breath
and looked for silence.

Nothing was appealing.
Nothing elegant enough
for isolation
like a childhood garden.

Aliah focused on her surroundings
and found a place.
A bench in a dark corner.

“It will have to do,“ she whispered, running.

She sat down,
looked around
to make sure she was alone,
and closed her eyes.


*C’était toujours aussi magique,
et terrifiant à la fois.
Un sentiment indescriptible.
Aliah veut le garder,
tout au fond d’elle.
Mais elle sait très bien
que c’est futile.*

From the outside, the process looks
promising
beautiful, even.
But the result was never perfect.

*Parfois il était joyeux.
Occasionnellement sentimental.
Des fois même étrange.*

At times, it was angry,
ugly,
or nostalgic.

Sometimes, she could guess the result beforehand.
But most of the time, she got it wrong.

One thing was sure
the process never gets easier.

Aliah suffered through it:
a bleeding measure,
a chaotic summon.

It can be
a memory.
An emotion.
Or an internal confrontation.

They were pieces of her soul, after all.

She remembered Insolence.
Her ache is still bare.



*Parfois ça prend des jours.
Mais des fois une minute*

Like –
now.

Aliah opened her eyes
to discover the little person.
The newborn.

“Hello there.
Nice to meet you,“ she said, smiling.

Often, she gave them names too.

“You look like a Disparation to me.
It looks good on you.”

And then,
she looked sad for a moment.

Because she knows what comes next.
Whatever their forms,

their imperfections,
their purpose,
their fate
she has to let them go.

They never come back.
Always.
Nonetheless.

Even if she is forgotten,
she knows
this may be the last time
she breathes a soul.


Heart grieving,
she watched Disparation vanishing,
in the air.

She took a quiet lull,
to handle her emotions.
To let go.
To mourn.

And then,
she resumed her way.

The first piece to find her home.