Murmur in My Room

Unknown thought that occupies the senses and its back. Now I stand at the

doorway of a room I haven't entered for several years. Dust pools in the corners.

The curtains still hang as I saw them the last time I was in this room; they were

blue; today the color has faded quite a bit. I feel it is not the room, but the thing inside it,

the part that is not seen, only sensed. It disturbs the heart like a low, constant wind under

the skin. All I know is that is consequences are never favorable. It makes you live in endless anticipation, not knowing when it will happen, or how.

And today, it greets me.

I stepped in. The floorboards answer with a brittle sigh. This used to be my room - or his.

Or ours. The boundary between memories is blurred here. This area has kept us both like

pressed flowers of colors bled but form intact.

The shadow follows my steps. Not visible, but I feel it pacing behind me, two beats behind,

and my back started to tingle. My pulse quickens for no reason. There's nobody to run from,

nothing to fight - only the stillness.

The murmur names itself again: I am the master of silence. I am the guardian of

postponed dreams.

There was a window seat here. We used to race to it in the mornings - first one there

made the other listen to his dream. He repeatedly won. I always listened.

I sit now in the hollowed window frame. The sun refuses to touch me.

I don't know why I came back.

Maybe I thought I could reclaim something - the sound of his laughter, perhaps.

Or the lightness of being before the silence.

But I don't find laughter. Only murmurs.

The murmur is the ability that is hindered before the decision.

The step that melts before the boundary.

The trembling hand before the truth.

The stuttering tongue at the crossroads.

That's what I was. That's what I am still, maybe - someone who never said what needed saying.

Character who let silence carry the weight of what should have been words.

I reach for the drawer we once carved our names into. The handle resists me. I pull gently - and there it is. A folded paper. The ink has faded, but I recognize my brother's handwriting.

My name is on the top.

I hesitate.

I read it.

It's not long. Just a note. A few lines.

"Don't be afraid to say it.

Not to them.

Not to me.

Say it out loud before it dies inside you."

He always says it whenever we drove on the coastal road and writes on seashore

sands when we went to the beach.

My breath stumbles. I press the paper to my chest. And for a moment, the room is

no longer empty. The walls are bright again. His laughter rings against the bookshelves.

His voice chases mine across the carpet.

And then it fades - slowly - into the murmur again.

But this time, I don't retreat. I don't run.

I speak. Not much. Just a whisper.

"I'm sorry I never said it. I'm sorry I did not listen to your last dream."

The hum stirs. It doesn't vanish. But it shifts.

Now it is the breath in the curtains. The warmth in the chair. The golden hush

in my ribs.

Murmur is the silence of those who were here.

Whose laughter, voices, and faces still occupy the walls of my room.

I stand. I open the window.

The air enters like forgiveness.

The murmur remains. But now, I know it by name.

It is mine. It is my soul that longs to its memory.

©NASSER ALSHAIKHAHMED

Bio:

Nasser Alshaikhahmed is a Saudi Arabian bilingual poet and writer.

He writes poetry and short stories in both Arabic and English.

He attended school at Sonoma State University in California, USA.

Although his field of study is far from literature, his soul is immersed in

poetry and writing.

He is a member of: All Poetry, Soul Asylum Poetry Radio, New York - USA.

Poetry Anthologies: Voracious Polygots, U.S., The Quilled Ink, South Africa,

Wheel Song Poetry, U.K.

He has been published in online magazines, just to name a few, Polis Magazino, Greece,

ILA Magazine, U.S., Grupo de trabajo de escritores, Argentina and Uddan Television on YouTube.

He has translated from English to Arabic, several poetic works for poets from USA,

Japan and Australia, having been published as well, his translations in local journals.

He published a poetry book in Arabic ( العرافةara’fa) in 2013 by ( Arabian house for science).

He published an English poetry book (Whispered Vows) August 2023 by worldwide publisher,

Jeanette Tiburcid Marquez.

He won second prize in the Zheng Nian Cup China Literary Award, 2023.

He received awards on October 2023 by the L.A. Seneca International Academic Literary award and the Italian Academy of Philosophical Arts and Sciences, Bari-Italy.

He has participated in the International children's literature forum in Dhaka, Bangladesh,

December 2023.

He participated in the Oman International Poetry and Cultural Festival, April 2024 and participated

in the Indian International Literary forum in November 2024, Kolkata, West Bengal, India.