Gibran Stories Omnibus

vitality into the next branch so that it will grow and fill the empty
place.' This is what your mother told me when her father died, and you
should say the same thing when death takes my body to its resting place
and my soul to God's care.'
      Selma answered him with falling tears and broken heart, “When Mother
lost her father, you took his place; but who is going to take yours
when you are gone? She was left in the care of a loving and truthful
husband; she found consolation in her little daughter, and who will be
my consolation when you pass away? You have been my father and mother
and the companion of my youth.”
      Saying these words, she turned and looked at me, and, holding the
side of my garment, said, “This is the only friend I shall have after
you are gone, but how can he console me when he is suffering also? How
can a broken heart find consolation in a disappointed soul? A sorrowful
woman cannot be comforted by her neighbour's sorrow, nor can a bird fly
with broken wings. He is the friend of my soul, but I have already
placed a heavy burden of sorrow upon him and dimmed his eyes with my
tears till he can see nothing but darkness. he is a brother whom I
dearly love, but he is like all brothers who share my sorrow and help
me shed tears which increase my bitterness and burn my heart.”
      Selma's words stabbed my heart, and I felt that I could bear no
more. The old man listened to her with depressed spirit. The old man
listened to her with depressed spirit, trembling like the light of a
lamp before the wind. Then he stretched out his hand and said, “Let me
go peacefully, my child. I have broken the bars of this cage; let me
fly and do not stop me, for your mother is calling me. The sky is clear
and the sea is calm and the boat is ready to sail; do not delay its
voyage. Let my body rest with those who are resting; let my dream end
and my soul awaken with the dawn; let your soul embrace mine and give
me the kiss of hope; let no drops of sorrow or bitterness fall upon my
body lest the flowers and grass refuse their nourishment. Do not shed
tears of misery upon my hand, for they may grow thorns upon my grave.
Do not draw lines of agony upon my forehead, for the wind may pass and
read them and refuse to carry the dust of my bones to the green
prairies... I love you, my child, while I lived, and I shall love you
when I am dead, and my soul shall always watch over you and protect
you.”
      When Farris Effandi looked at me with his eyes half closed and said,
“My son, be a real brother to Selma as your father was to me. Be her
help and friend in need, and do not let her mourn, because mourning for
the dead is a mistake. Repeat to her pleasant tales and sing for her
the songs of life so that she may forget her sorrows. Remember me to
your father; ask him to tell you the stories of your youth and tell him
that I loved him in the person of his son in the last hour of my life.”
      Silence prevailed, and I could see the pallor of death on the old
man's face. Then he rolled his eyes and looked at us and whispered,
“Don't call the physician, for he might extend my sentence in this
prison by his medicine. The days of slavery are gone, and my soul seeks
the freedom of the skies. And do not call the priest to my bedside,
because his incantations would not save me if I were a sinner, nor
would it rush me to Heaven if I were innocent. The will of humanity
cannot change the will of God, as an astrologer cannot change the
course of the stars. But after my death let the doctors and priest do
what they please, for my ship will continue sailing until it reaches
its destination.”
      At midnight Farris Effandi opened his tired eyes for the last time
and focused them on Selma, who was kneeling by his bedside. He tried to
speak, but could not, for death had already choked his voice; but he
finally managed to say, “The night has passed... Oh, Selma...Oh...Oh,
Selma...” Then he bent his head, his face turned white, and I could see
a smile on his lips as he breathed his last.
      Selma felt her father's hand. It was cold. Then she raised her head
and looked at his face. It was covered with the veil of death. Selma
was so choked that she could not shed tears, nor sigh, nor even move.
For a moment she stared at him with fixed eyes like those of a statue;
then she bent down until her forehead touched the floor,