article · Issue No. 8, August 1952 · p. 17

Heart Talk: Consoling a Friend

Aphrodite

حديث القلب - مؤاساة صديق · افروديت

...Who said, my friend, that the wounds which pierced to the depths of your depths have not left my heart quivering with blood and pain?...
With insistent yearning I catch news of you from those who come and go, like one who does not care! And how can brevity satisfy me when I — always, in my silence and my suppression — hunger for more?!...
Why, I wonder, were my breaths so stifled? Why was my tongue tied, so that no abundant flood flowed over it of all that surges and clamors in the revolt of my heart — in my revolt against the unjust human being who stripped himself of his humanity?
...And who said, my friend, that the wounds which made your heart bleed have not left my heart choking on its own blood?...

*

I have kept my feelings hidden in the folds of my transparent soul, as in the folds of silk and rose petals, pure and unstained, beyond the reach of any shadow of suspicion... And I — I have never once looked at a human being with anything but a pure and chaste look, and you — you know well the truth of what I say!
I never wished for you, my friend, this bitter choking, this cup of gall which I drained before you; it was not meant for your lips — so I feel, so I believe.
And who said that the wounds which struck your great, merciful heart have not left my heart quivering with blood and pain?

*

How my heart swelled at your noble stand toward your small enemies — that stand which is a signal victory for you, and a shining face among the faces of your soul, laden with goodness and pride... And how I wished I could have been at your side, soothing the pains of your soul, lulling its wounds, taking you by the hand; but you needed no one, and you stood firm, alone, in the face of the storm, your wings spread wide, and there lived in your eyes the lofty gaze of the great human being through all the trials of life... So permit me to clasp your hand in congratulation...
...And who said, my friend, that the bleeding wounds of your heart have not left my heart folded in upon itself, moaning its aching moan?!

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