Her Eyes

She told her story,
The unspoken pasts
She refused to remember
She say it with her eyes.

And it is easy to drown
In heartfelt words
But she learnt how to hide them.
Like how her brown iris overpowers
The blue.

And so to know
Is to watch her eyes.
Did it become watery?
Or was it clear?

Did it sparkle
And darted away?
Or did it stare straight into yours
Like the afternoon rays?

And like words
One can mean the other
But collectively as a sentence
It can possibly mean one thing.

Life as it is always.
Filled with complexity
And its own tragedies.

So when her eyes gets cloudy,
The sky begins to clear
Reminding her that
Allah is always near.

That was how she was fine.
And how you tell that she wasn’t.

~S.H.~