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