by Z Surakji
The loudspeakers crackled a static, and the announcer’s voice boomed and echoed off the hilly terrain, preparing us for the highlight of the eve, and in a matter of seconds, the mob fell into a unified silence and state of intense anticipation.
A screaming whistle.
A million colors invigorate the dark.
The crowd goes wild.
The night sky is suddenly a canvas. Hues of jade, dabs of sapphire and strokes of ruby painted a story against the dark background. Lines sprawled out in shapes and sizes only to evaporate an instant later, clearing the way for the next sketch.
But in the pyrotechnics, I saw a familiar figure burst to life.
In the tints and tones I saw the spectrums of color you infused into my life when I welcomed you in.
In the blinding brightness, I witnessed the way your face beamed and glowed whenever you smiled at me.
In the intensity of the heat, I felt your skin pressed against mine, warming me through frigid winter nights.
In the reverberating explosions, I felt my heart booming the first time you called out my name.
In the scent of sulfur, I inhaled the matchsticks you lit your cigarettes with, because it apparently tasted better that way.
In the screeching shrieks, your arguments and fights resurfaced.
In the waning fizzles, I witnessed our flames dying out.
In the deafening silence after, I heard the sound of you not responding.
In the returning dark, I was engulfed again in the way you left me.
I went to see the fireworks, but all I saw was you.
© Z Surakji 2023-07-07