Dec 15, 2011

The sunset? Or a mere reflection of my life?

By Ilsa Rashid

Q. Describe a sunset from the perspective of a sad person.

Have you ever noticed that hair-thin, black line on the horizon?
I never did either, until today. I had noticed the white sand reflect the sun’s rays. I had felt the water kiss my toes and shy away. I had felt the wind stir up melodies to which the gulls danced. Today, however, the horizon has my attention. It’s vivid, it’s defined—yet, it’s untouchable.

The expanse of graphite or deep Malva, as Rochelle put it, boasts great strength, vim and spirit. Like a raging beast it charges towards me, but merely strokes my feet with a frothy blanket. It’s like the storm within me once; full of anger, pride and argour. Who knew that my fate was like
the water’s; that after years of struggle I, too, would be as enervated as a tide on the shore.

The water is calm today. All I hear is the distant slosh of waves, the cry of a few gulls and from somewhere inside me, resonant silence. I’m amazed how much the ocean and I have in common. Of course, the only exception is that the ocean is home to billions, where I myself am homeless. Lost. Rejected.

The sun castes almost fluorescent rays of crimson that travel all the way to me, casting the spotlight I never got—or deserved—as they said. My eyes follow the golden trail the sun has laid for me, inviting me to it… No, I’ve burnt enough. I’d rather not walk it.

By now, the sun itself is defeated. I feel better knowing that I’m not the only sinking, grieving and descending into a Stygian death. Nevertheless, I’m jealous. The fireball has everything I don’t; fame, respect, notoriety and life. It will rise again with energy and vitality where I will immerse into the gloom of these murky waters.

It’s hard to ignore the sky in the background. The backdrop is painted in lively shades of yellow and peach where it meets the water and merges into strands of purple of the thin veins on my hands in winters. It finally opens into that blue everyone associates with hope and peace and freedom. Don’t you think it’s the most haunting of all colours? It’s empty, it’s hollow and it’s intimidating. It’s the sad colour of dismay, betrayal and of a lingering threat behind a beauty. Rochelle sure looked beautiful in that colour.

Soon, it will be dark.
Soon, the sun will surrender to death, and so will I.


AnnyR said...

I think this is...quite amazing.

Ilsa said...

A little late, but thankyou, Anny.

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