أعرف انها تعدي
غيمة رمادي وثقيلة
.عميقة وعريضة وطويلة
:وما عندها إلا طلب
.انني اتحمل وزنها على القلب
،عندما نزلت عليي
ذهب متعة الألوان
إن كان زراق السماء
أو خضار الريحان
:لكن: أذكر نفسي
.أنها الغيمة ماقد ضيفة عندي
نعم، هي ضيفة ثقيلة دم
والضيف دائماً عندو هدف
حتى إن يكون من أهداف
.كسر القلب، للاسف
.معلش. لا بأس
.لا داعي لليأس
،انها مجرد غيمة
أول عن آخر، تتركني
لكن سأبقى في رعاية ربي
.ما غيره قادر أن يجبر بخاطري
أعلم: أنها غيمة؛
There are no words left
After the last teardrop ends.
Such a foolish being I was to pretend
I knew all there is to know about sadness and tears
Mere water, minerals and other little substances
Unlike they are carrying secrets of a thousand years.
Would I be most lucky
If I could take one of them,
A single teardrop
Freeze it forever in time,
And watch the ball drop.
So I could learn all the secret wisdom within
Learn about my pain, my joys, my angst, my aching
Learn about why a certain smell or time sends me rotating
But most of all, take back all the words it seems to keep taking
From my lips.
I want something to say but from my mind it continuously slips.
Alas, there is no science
That can recapture the words that evaporated with the tears
No science to metaphorically condense
Those escaped words back into something that makes sense
Definitely not back into liquid for inside the ink of my pen
Sometimes all of time feels futile; past-present-future blend
The fact is, here I am, facing a reality most grim;
Accepting that sometimes, even words can face a tragic end
By a single teardrop.
October 8, 2019
It would have been my father’s birthday today. Allah yerhamu. This poem was written last October.
The saying goes, “time heals.”
But I don’t think so. It only strips the surreal.
I think time simply reveals
That the agony is deeper and more real
Than the strongest part of us thought it could conceal.
Because the thought of re-awakening wounds,
Re-living sweet memories buried in stormy hearts
Embracing our unbearable vulnerability
Tears us inwardly violently apart
In a million ways.
Granted, time can heal. And it needs to at times.
Time will heal hurt, bad moments, unpleasant lies.
But what if I only have fond memories of you,
Memories that act as explosive fuel
For enough warmth to set my heart ablaze?
Frankly, if healing means slowly forgetting you
Then I forget who I am, too
So no, I don’t want to heal from this
Remembering you and all you gave me of bliss
This is grief.
And, in brief,
I will learn to breathe through it
Simply because I must,
and I know you
Wouldn’t have wanted my soul to rust.
I will learn,
Through secret tears that burn,
To take all the knots in my crowded heart
And make a silk rope; just a part
Of my brilliant plan to keep climbing up
That I might be fortunate enough to be your kinda cup
At least half as kind, sweet
Half as intelligent a mind,
Half as chivalrous as you were.
I cannot wait for time
To never heal me from remembering you and your legacy.
Looking on the bright side of an endlessly dark tunnel,
Grieving is a beautiful thing, I must say
Beautiful in its own twisted, ironic and desperate way
It’s beautiful to know that this terrible feeling
Meant I knew and loved someone worth the grieving
And that alone is a kind of healing.
Two months down.
A lifetime more to go.
-October 11, 2019
Beauty can be cruel
In all the right ways.
I normally love this season, but these days…
As I breathe in the freshness of autumn,
As I drink in all the hues
As I savour colors of warmth from leaves
Skies adorned with all shades of blues
I can’t help but wonder
At how majestic beauty can be so cruel.
All these colours, ever transitioning
Mock my black and white feelings
Numb… then exuberant joy… numb… then intensely sorrowful
The canvas of colours
Mocks my tendency right now to just feel awful.
And that sun! Glorious and high
Mocks the solid darkness lurking inside
And the wind; pure, clear and uplifting
Mocks the fact I feel I am drowning.
You see, it is the first gorgeous season
I experience without you.
Put aside black and white,
Can anyone blame me for feeling a little navy blue?
But I need this.
If mocking me is the only renewable fuel
To pull me out of deep waters
Then by all means, let the beauty of autumn
Continue to be cruel.
–October 28, 2019
This is beautiful. Please click on the image below to read the full post, and make a prayer for my father’s soul. May God reward you.
I wrote the below words in dedication to my father (may God have mercy on his soul). He passed away on August 11, 2019 due to cancer. “Ya Shaheed” Inna lillahi wa ina ilayhi la raji-oun. To Allah (God) we belong and to him do we return. O’ you who returned your face glowed like […]
Perhaps what every human being shares
Regardless of ethnicity, faith, hue, and no matter where
Is that we are all, in some way, broken.
Some of us are broken physically
And this broken-ness is apparent in treatments and visits medically
No matter the medical issue:
Broken bone, limb, cancerous cells, ripped tissue…
Some of us are flawless in matters of health
But helplessly drowning in lack of wealth
Some of us are comfortable materially
But suffering from bad thoughts and unpleasant events
Broken emotionally or mentally.
Some of us appear to be handling everything well
But on long-broken promises their thoughts on still dwell
Some carry in them memories of broken dreams,
Broken hopes, broken expectations.
Broken trusts, broken faith,
Broken will, broken heart,
And that’s why I pray,
If break I must to fall apart,
Then so be it
Just give me the beautiful patience and endurance
To rise from it
But please, O God, do not let this broken-ness
Be a break from You
Because with You, all broken-ness can mend
Without You, every night is an end.
اللهم لا تَجْعَلْ مُصِيبَتَنَا فِي دِينِنَا وَلاَ تَجْعَلِ الدُّنْيَا أَكْبَرَ هَمِّنَا وَلاَ مَبْلَغَ عِلْمِنَا وَلاَ تُسَلِّطْ عَلَيْنَا مَنْ لاَ يرحمنا
“Oh Allah, do not make our affliction in our religion, and do not make this world our greatest concern, nor the limit of our knowledge, and do not give power over us to those who will not have mercy on us.”
And Allah knows Best.
To all the women who are told
To be all that they can be, confident and bold
That nothing could and should ever contain them…
Except to realize, apparently, a piece of fabric can…
Resulting from a well-thought out decision to practice her faith,
Which Quebec is now telling her is a really bad career mistake.
Time and time again,
Battles are waged and women end up in the center of the cage
So here the losers are again, in a different form, ever ready
To play out painful insecurities over identity crisis over my body
By telling me how to dress
Speaking about me rather than to me,
Then claiming to know where my interests lie – the irony
And it’s not like we don’t talk! But when we talk, they don’t listen
Convinced anything outside their own limited perspective is a prison
The need to control everyone else’s stride
Is a load of crap and hateful poison inside.
I’m done trying to explain myself to deaf ears.
No explanation necessary.
They pretend to agree that all women are equally powerful to men
But then because of Orientalist tendencies, accuse me of being subservient to them.
I’m good, really,
Your white saviour complex,
Whenever you think you “help” you just make things into a bloody mess.
I don’t have to explain myself.
I don’t need to justify where I am going
Because frankly, contrary to what self-entitled and privileged minds think…
I owe you, nothing.
I don’t owe you a glimpse of my hair,
I don’t owe you a glimpse of my body,
I don’t even owe you a glimpse in my mind,
But I’m fair;
You owe me nothing, too…
Except the same kind of space and respect I already give you.
In the past, we’re talking decade-younger me
I was a patient person… still am, but not as naively
I’ve learned to now prioritize my generous patience depending on the condition.
Like, I now ask myself a pretty crucial question:
Is this person genuinely clueless, genuinely curious, or is he just being deliberately racist, sexist, Islamophobic, misogynist?
Because honestly, life is tiring enough without justifying my existence,
Over and over again – please spare me this bullshit.
I do not have to explain myself to you.
To the young man on the bus
Who gave me a piece of his unasked-for opinionated mind,
And the random Facebook strangers who think
After their virtual approval in comments I anxiously run behind,
To the people who think I’m too Muslim for a Canadian woman
Parce que <<Au Québec, c’est comme ça qu’on vit>>, apparently
Too terrified to acknowledge they themselves are not natives to this land, more irony…
Mere immigrants and settlers,
Colonizers and oppressors…
Might seem a bit rash, but —
I do not have to explain myself to you.
To the people who claim religious symbols of any kind make them « uncomfortable »
Turban, crucifix, kippa, hijab, even just a nice long skirt…
I’m always this close to wanting to blurt:
Did you know that there are actually some things that also make me uncomfortable, too?
*Gasp* (No, it’s true!)
But like most people bent on flourishing and blooming on my own path
Instead of bottling up my insecurities and unleashing my wrath
On a group of supposedly “different” people…
I’ve simply learned to be accepting of harmless differences
Because you know what?
I know the world doesn’t revolve around me.
And it doesn’t revolve around those who with my spiritual outlook disagree. Sorry.
I do not have to explain myself to them.
It truly bombards me with waves of confusion
That people try to pass pathetic laws and bills based on the illusion
That what makes them squirm
Like a worm inside
Has the same importance to the point of banning it on the outside.
Are you kidding me?
My favorite expression is “leave it at the door”
Like removing a pair of shoes at the masjid,
Casually toss it on the floor,
I hate to inform them, that’s not how my faith works.
I do not have to explain myself.
Haters have a peculiar diet.
They love to feed on fear
They unite and bond closer over violent riots,
Excited for all but themselves to smear.
You do not have to explain yourself to them.
No explanation necessary.
Just let me be.
And God knows Best.
A momentary glance at you
A quick smile exchange
And my desire to speak to anyone else
Right now just fades.
Because you are enough.
Almost everyone else is just extra.
Your kindness, your gentle eyes,
Takes me to another era –
Where I never stopped being a little girl
And you never lost that childish smile
Where we can both freely say what’s on our minds,
Unfiltered; at least for that mini while.
I may not even know you long enough
Or well enough to call this fond feeling a pure love
But what can I do if my heart has decided you are a kindred spirit
Angelically sent into my world with the function to uplift
Even when we talk of subjects dark, grim, and unpleasant,
Your company alone is still one of life’s most marvelous presents.
Upon running into you,
I only wish you knew
The way I instantly feel
A flurry of excitement
But also a calmness more real.
A minute before you walked in my day,
I felt like I had a million things to say
A minute after you left, I felt my socializing was done
For the day.
Not because you drain me
But because I feel fulfilled
Full to the brim with contentment
At this kindred spirit friendship, so splendid.
We may be from different worlds
I don’t expect them to always synergetically collide
But when they do, it blows my mind
And when they don’t, regardless,
I feel happy and blessed
To know someone that uplifts by a simple smile,
Even if I only see you once a very long while.
It suffices to enrich my life,
Because you are so enough.
February 18, 2019