Difficult Heart

‘No one is going to devote their lives for you..’ she said as she approached me slowly ‘and even if you could find someone who is willing, you would run away the minute they expressed it to you. I know you more than you would like to believe, and honey, you are not looking for love, you are looking for yourself in every arm that ever held you. It doesn’t work like that, it never worked like that, no one has the pieces to complete you.‘ 

Reaching for my hands, she looked at me through a glass of helplessness, I hated that expression on her face, I hated the pain it painted and the guilt lurking in the room, way, way after she’s gone. 

‘I am sorry..’ hesitation cautiously stopped her in her track, for a moment I wanted to embrace her, no, I wanted to be a part of her, not a whole, never a whole, only a distinct memory in a distant space inside of her mind. 

My eyes began to water, and she sat closer to rest her head on my shoulders ‘baby, you can’t keep doing this, you can’t keep on bathing your flesh in sorrow, with the hope you will be born anew. There is no sacrifice left for you to hand, there is no malicious way to feed this void that you haven’t tried already. You need to give up this unfair torture against yourself’ 

‘Easier said..’ I whispered as my tears betrayed me. 

She looked at me, this time, her lips quivered and I knew she wanted to talk a whole lot more; talk about our happy childhood, how she remembers it, talk about the days I was everyone’s long awaited joy, and the smiles that always welcomed me, talk about the dreams of our parents, and how our father always deemed me special for carrying a sensitivity way beyond my age. She had endless stories of a time I no longer return to; filled with memories I can no longer obtain on my own.  

‘You got to learn to fight it.. this.. darkness.. you got to..’ she broke off crying. I embraced her, for once, I was the one doing the comforting, for once I held her like fragility and prayed -for the first time- to God, prayed that He heals my sister; heal her of the burden of having to heal me, heal her of the responsibility that she believes is hers, I couldn’t stand to see her suffering, and worst, I couldn’t stand being the reason behind her suffering. 

‘You should go’ I spoke after a few moments of silence ‘I will be fine, like you said, it’s just one of those days’ like an automatic switch, she raised her head after those magic words were uttered, I learned with my family, the only way to release them is through isolation, I couldn’t expect them to understand, nor should I expect to receive their attention. We are all hopelessly, frantically running, lost in this maze and everyone has their own issues to deal with. I learned to keep quiet about mine, at first it was through shame but as I grew older, it was for survival, when no one knows a thing, or how brutally a pain can thickens, I should be fine, I can carry it, untouched, until the passing of days. 

‘You know how much I love you’ it wasn’t a question but a fearful gesture of affirmation, she wanted me to know that she knows how her efforts had turned in vain, yet again, and how she’s always left with the only absolute she can offer; her love, like a shadow always longing after me, left but an open wound, yet again, waiting to be washed off me. 

‘I know’ was the only response I could give, as I let her go and stood behind the locked door, stealing glances through the peep hole as her figure drifted away, I stood there, diseased at a standstill, wondering if this is the last memory I’ll have of her.. Walking away, like everyone did, with a heavy love they had to put down.

a handful of yearning

careful with each part of me, he has me sustained within a handful of yearning; contained in-between the heat of our bodies. a touch that ignites my spirit in hungry motion, i am held inside the wake of passion. 

love welcomes me with an instant embrace; in a place opposite of time, separate of space, my mind expresses desires in lyrics of longing that fills me with the cravings of a thousand ancient voices; i fall tingling, break open at the mercy of pleasure. 

beyond the senses of all reason, an obscure comfort settles deep in my bones, grasping flinching lights, with shivering hands, i reach for more, turning every barrier forward; i march slowly forward, panting and breathing creamy clouds of no end, i am caught in familiar fashion; spreading gently, he has me sustained, strung along a handful of yearning. 

Of Darkness (A Farewell)

we write to make sense of the non-sense, to silence the gloom we are doomed to endure. memories are deadly, writers glue the pieces to heal, yet healing is never granted, only far-sighted glimpses scattered in moments that forever pass. 

my friend found peace the night she overdosed, suicide was laughable & honesty feared to realize the weight of that word, i think i could’ve done more, no, i know i couldn’t, our souls were only companions when lighthearted air circulated her lonely room. 

loneliness is a disease, this heart rests in ashes of horrors it utters in its sleep. restless sleep. my feet moves to an odd rhythm, inescapable of the ungodliness of this world. this world, an interlude that keeps stretching in repetition of echoes & phrases without a final note. 

i pray the way my mother taught me, in remembrance of blessings showered & found with the quivering of birds, but my lord this continuing is suffering & suffering has made a home in each room. 

forgive me for i am ungrateful. 

I express to regret, & my mind is caught handling dreadful monologues. again. 

the soul dies battling a lifetime of grief. 

the youth is lost, in-finding a meaning; of substance to last. away.. it keeps spreading away. oh lord, forgive me. the quivering of birds no longer consumes me. & i yield instead for the impossible embrace of understanding. waiting, with an isolated phrase, honesty can not dare speak. 

Heal(ing)

Writing is solitary, sailing through the passing of time, in remembrance of all that is, all that was, & all that is caught in-between. I pray God hears every expression, & every plea for meaning; for an opening of yet another door – for a comfort in-meaning. 

One day, the terror & ecstasy will not endure, one day the tinted eye will see the chaos from its own hands; not as a work of art, but the sealed remains of a whole, extinct within a lost & borrowed time. 

The pale blue light penetrates the empty room in search of what remains; the tug of distant memories, battling disillusionment, falling into complete silence, this heart is seized, shakes, refusing to utter forgiveness. 

The waves at times slobbering, often trembles, but mostly  crashes down in fragments, for one to pull themselves out of the dead grease, that is difficult. 

i dip my feet, & swim the frozen waves to find warmth, to find meaning, to find truths, to find myself, once again. 

To All The Girls

to all the girls 

with cigarette burns 

& coffee stained 

-swollen tongues 

with past lovers’ stolen kisses  

& flickering touch 

of a slippery romance 

to all the girls 

with sorrow worn 

(torn) like a second skin 

the reality is; 

life collapses in a mere moment 

to prove a love like yours 

can actually exist

*** 

undress the generosity 

of each sacrifice 

in search of a life un-interfered

with every ill-fashioned pursuit

& empty embrace that was never

meant to last 

confess your truths

in exploration of a strength 

declared 

map the way  

for a (lost) self 

to find it’s way (back)

home

(to you). 

Undeserving

your son is undeserving of love, forgive me, as i write this i do apologize, echoing a name i am learning to erase off my mind, these bottled memories carry cruelty; a pain that does not belong in poetry for the bitter heaviness it holds down. 


your son is undeserving of love, this softness is an ocean spilling from an open chest, rubbed against the demons he laid ahead, i broke my heart trying to teach kindness to the unkind, my arms stretched in spite of every scar he learnt to cover my body with; a body that was always left half-eaten, broken & wounded in cries. 


your son is undeserving of love, this heart of mine ached in lonely nights; too many to count, for a love i held in scattered parts, trying desperately to patch a worn-out romance. i have loved a man with my entire heart, painfully set my own self aside; each day i waited for him to un-skin the devils, musings & offerings of the dark, &journey back safely into my arms. 


your son is undeserving of love. for all the ugliness he sneaked into my mouth; his love was the burdening tragedy i taught myself how to endure, clutching screams for help without once making a sound. 


your son is undeserving of love. forgive me for thinking i could teach him how to love. 


yet i really tried.

An Ode To My Father

chapter one: love 

partnership is the solid ground which holds everything in-place; the ground on which two individuals unite to intertwine two lives together; to begin anew. 

my father’s true & only infatuation was my mother; a woman with a special kind of beauty that always drew that second-glance; she had the sort of grace, you only see in films or read about in the pages of endless books; a beauty assembled in the way she carries herself; always with that bright elegance, she was the center-focus of any room she walked in, the kind of woman who fully understood her worth from the get-go. 

my father knew what an ideal woman is, no stranger to heartache & betrayal; he had to battle his demons & scrub-away the aftermath, for a woman like my mother to cross his path.. eloquently summarized by a close friend of his, he said: my father simply stated when the mention of his upcoming marriage was brought up, he looked up to his friends and said: ‘this is it’ & nothing was the same after. 

love is bliss, truly & utterly; an unapologetic colorful joy that splashes from every direction, it asks for no invitation & appears as if it had been there the entire time. 

my parent’s marriage was one built of a mutual respect; my father had given my mother the gift she had always prayed for; us. myself and my two brothers are my mother’s greatest pride. 

her decision to stay-home & look-after us, was a decision she made out of love, my father worked tirelessly to provide us with the best life, and my mother stayed by his side, nurturing us with everything a mother could grant her children; I see my mother’s kind soul in all of us, I see her goodheartedness in us, the compassion she instilled in us to always (always) care for the other no matter what, she would always say whenever I question her tolerance & patience: ‘I treat people by my character not theirs. I do good by them the way God taught me & always wishes me to’

my father understood my mother & she contained him, until the very final days of his life, my mother would stay-up & outside of the operation’s room praying & waiting to catch a glimpse of him; she was always the first face to greet him a good morning & she was the last face he saw before he left to the eternal home. 

the more I write down their story, the deeper my heart sinks, the more tears I am yet to shed, the more I realize I could never-ever do it justice; they have painted in my eyes a full marriage; one that was always honest yet respectfully private, one that celebrated each important moment without missing any, one that was tailored to notice the needs of each member of the family & always cater for it, without once forgetting to bring-together the family to celebrate the anniversary of when it all started. 

the love I carry in my heart for the man I plan to marry is the reason why I am writing this today, the reason why I am reminiscing..

I have talked about bliss but I have never experienced it until I have met him; bliss-filled peace that is making the background of my life; I am blooming & arriving with him by my side to realizations and affirmations about myself and womanhood; a growth that testifies to a past that serves as a teacher & a stepping-stone to the blessing God has always had in-store for me. 

seeing two footprints in the sand, moving hopefully in harmony, not knowing what the future might hold, but taking steady steps together; one after the other, is how I view partnership. 

love pushes you forward, together, it doesn’t hold you back; two lives joining then merging into one, both recognized separately yet celebrated in union, is how I view partnership. 

every contribution regardless of how small it may seem is focused & rejoiced by the other, is the way I view partnership. 

this man, this blessing, this love, this support-system that is my all-in-one; my friend through the darkest of times, my goofy-buddy through the silliest of moments, my comfort through the confusing days & my partner through the upcoming chapters of life.   

the love I have been introduced to, is the love my parents have shown me through their lives; a companionship that allows love to flourish comfortably, to birth passion, commitment & an understanding that grows naturally through the passing of days. 

as my love travels in search of a better-life for us, I find myself firmer in my stand, waiting patiently, rooting by his side, asking God to protect him, bless him, & bring him home safe. 

earnestly do I pray for you 

my love, 

may you find the bigger & better things, sooner than ever

so that our lives may intertwine again 

so that we meet again 

so that I get to hold you in my yearning arms 

once again. 

Sign

 

the rain with its soothing rhythm covers the fabric of life in a way that puts everything back into perspective, it falls softly upon the yearning soil like God’s answers to every secret, lonesome prayer:

“I am Here, I am forever close”

my heart has found an ease it’s calling home, tonight, with the rain as my only witness, I too have buried a prayer deep within, while pages of the past unfolded roughly, I needed an arm to rest-upon; regrets circling a tiresome cycle of hurtful memories, I too wanted to wipe-clean a tainted history that left pain in every sentence, I too wanted to rip the names off the pages and ask forgetfulness to take its rightful place.

“to what good?”

love isn’t a seductive note you amuse yourself with, it is not a temporary fix to fill an empty craving stomach, until you can not stomach it anymore, no. love is never the decoration of hopeless literature or spineless films, no, it is what our flimsy senses could never make sense of, expect, anticipate or control.

no matter how hard we try to.

a life with no faith is no life at all. how do you water a soul that has forgotten His remembrance?

the deserted state of my generation saddens me to the core; a loss of self, identity & esteem crowds the cowardly crowd of many; whom in a desperate attempt to reinvent and claim attention; ended-up in matching groups of devoid minds of mindless chatter & ridiculous monologues.

God calls upon every soul through signs found all around us. 

 

this breeze, this rain, the dancing of leaves in the garden for this long-coming is a sign; mine, this comfort is mine, this ease is mine, this peace rooted in my heart is mine. I do not wish to ever step-away from this, never ever forget that a "life lived away from Him is no life at all".

Intake

blessings engulf me as i look around me, amazed at the just-power of God; His undying & committed chord connecting all of which that has unfolded in my life recently.

I have met a man with that special kindness my soul has long longed for, a man with eyes that stretch the way blue skies carry-on unbounded, a man whose heart is as deep & nourishing as water running-free in a selfless ocean. 

I love him with a steadiness that grounds me, how the earth seem to circle endlessly, yet his love is the center bringing-forth all of which is good to me. I thank God for guiding me in finding a soul so familiar, so alike; it called upon me to teach me what unconditional love is, for my soul to respond instantly.

my heart is still-at-peace, inside a fullness of a growing-love that has gratitude glued at each intake.

May God bless you, my love, for having me discover myself in ways I could never describe. 

May God bless our lives together with a flow of a generous joy, running-free at the beginning & end of each intake. 

a woman, becoming

you held my hand, the way you would a responsibility; with an immediacy that produced no calculations & the soft-spoken honesty of a sure language; softening a heart out of a mean & cruel isolation 

my days unfolded in growing passions; with the tender console of a man who evoked strange yet familiar senses in me; pages in me, parts of me, I had never dared touch before, a man devoid of the vain flattery of a lawless society, a man with the firm tone of a moral constitution & virtue 

With you, I feel like a woman becoming; arriving at maturity, surely, securing a strength in self with the quiet privacy of a determined purpose, adorned with a love of gravity; free of the insincerity & pretense of understanding, held-in a delicate mood of a fine comfort & companionship unlike any other

love like the gentle-kiss of an early spring, I am filled with the beauty & grace of serenity; grateful to the Almighty for blessing me with a man whose heart as generous & giving as the ocean, a man with a fondness resting-in solid grounds; certain, kind & unspoiled grounds.

Hopeful

So many women (myself include) often fall under the terrible trap of giving the (passing) men in our lives too much credit 
No man has built anything for you, darling, the battles, the suffering, the relentless journey laid ahead of us is one we'll march all on our own 

It is a blessing when God sends a man with the understanding of the seasons by his side; one who admires the cross & fights we go through without rushing to claim the gold underneath 

It is such a frightening thing to hold your voice in your hands & stand tall against it all

We are so ridiculously drugged with the discolored misconceptions of love that we accept, endure & allow to be slapped down & over with any awful gloom clouding our better judgement - disguised as love

 The truth is that shimmering light shining in the depth of darkness; the labor & hard work is all you, the dry place to water is also yours to do 

Do not settle for the painting-over done by beastly men, the garden clothed in that early morning is the inner peace you'll learn to nourish 

Love is feasted upon so many undeserving tongues, but that generous blue sky no matter the hidden ruins always awakes to be swept over by the hopeful sun.  

Here I Am

As honest as I can be; I do not hide in shivers of where my thoughts will take me; digesting a relationship that kept me in a dreadful state of inner war & struggle; a permanent expression of grief, anger & resentment.

Love was never meant to hurt.

Love doesn’t beat you to leave you in doubt, cursing every immodest compromise.

Love shouldn’t birth evil impulses in every breath it takes.  

I blame the weakness rooted in a boy for the way he cursed Love; a boy that is too crippled in his own fears to face his own inadequacies & shortcomings of character, a boy that is too rigid, yes & too blown in an inflated, deluded image of self to think anything deeply wrong with him.

Be aware of the weakest of the wicked; a boy like a misguided blend of contradictory washed-up statements, serving nothing but his own selfishness, leaving more & more disappointments in every course he takes.  

We live in an age crowded with those with the appearance of men, but share nothing of the victorious bravery, dignity, wisdom & good character of the men who walked with our fathers. Those are the unbearable & ignorant kind; fixed in bad habits, slaves to the empty amusements & reflections of the mirror.

Be aware of those ruled by the tasteless behavior of the company they’re with.

We ought to be stopped in our paths by the likes of those, how else are we to know that love was never meant to exhaust nor drain your strength with every attempt? That love was never a superficial effort carrying malicious intents.

There is a false alluring charm that leads you to that frame of abusive love, but be careful behind the frame lies the ugly worms that will disfigure your entire world; turning you into something resembling nothing; a mere anxious & tired spirit.

Love is not a product of the circumstance. That is the destructive kind; that journeys violently in a misuse & abuse of power, sacrificing everything in its ill pursuits. 

Take notice of that stripped deceiving-mask; it will reveal that difficult awful truth.

Do not be carried away with wishful thinking, disappointed hope is always just that, disappointed.

I have drank a poison of the bitterest kind, yet here I am, sharpened & relaxed in my power, in a better & overstretched understanding of myself, my nature & that tender softness I have walked into the belly of the beast with, walked out without losing a drop of. 

الحَمْدُ للهِ