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.
Peace,
A.S.
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…
Broken physically.
Some of us are flawless in matters of health
But helplessly drowning in lack of wealth
Broken financially.
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,
O God,
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.
Duaa:
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.”
Ameen.
And Allah knows Best.
-A.S.
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.
But, seriously:
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,
Spare me
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…
Newsflash:
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.S.
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
My poetry is not necessarily
Remarkably great
I write because it’s an odd pleasant struggle
To unscramble my far-fetched thoughts
Into words
And somehow, allowing complete strangers relate.
I’m often asked,
When and why did you get into poetry?
It’s a really long story
But the why, definitely not for glory
The when? We’re talking as soon as I realized
How words rhyming to me is pure zen.
When I write a poem
The thrill is the same as finishing a painting
The canvas being the frustrated bottled feelings,
The ink bringing colour to my never-ending musings.
Poetry is a lifestyle
A means of essential clarity
Turning vague inklings of what I fancy or fear I feel
Into words acknowledging the situation as valid and real
When my mind has wars being fought inside it
Writing becomes my personal armor of sanity and mental uplift
Because as soon as I can make sense of the battles raging inside,
Then immediately all conflicts within cease and I’m fine.
Words are power,
Even if no one but yourself ever hears or reads them.
If you can put honest words to your values and truth,
Then no one and no media can ever make you doubt your worth.
Words have power,
Even if no one but yourself ever hears or reads them.
You have to realise, that growing up
I hid my identity a lot.
It was never exactly out of shame per say,
But merely because what I said uselessly went in folks’ ears one way,
And out the other way.
I’m Canadian.
“No, but where are you really from?
English is not your first language.”
I didn’t have the words then to say that
Canada was not their “home” either
For English and French being the First Nations people’s
Native tongues?… ironically, neither!
I’m Arab. My first language is Arabic.
I’m Muslim. And no, Islam is not the equivalent of being an Arab.
I’m Palestinian, Yes we exist, even if your map denies it!
“Ah, so you’re from the world of Disney’s Aladdin
Chopping hands left and right for desperate acts of sin
Arabian nights, Arabian days”
I didn’t have the words then, as I do today,
To take their ignorant expressions
And then eloquently proceed to slay
Those misconceptions.
Because words have power.
I now write poetry to describe beauty
But my journey started with slaughtering the ugly
Notions and stereotypes people had, still have, about me
Now? I’ve written enough poetry and claimed my own truth
To no longer let anything get under my skin
Trust me,
Even if no one but yourself ever hears or reads them,
Words do have power alright
So spill out your thoughts, and write.
~
~
And Allah knows Best.
-A.S.
(February 2019)
There is so much that needs to be said,
But no words able to say it.
There is so much being felt,
But more numbness with being dealt.
Like a pendulum, we swing.
There is so much passion for life
Even with feelings of death on the inside
There is so much knowledge in minds
And yet intolerable ignorance still lies.
Like a pendulum, we swing.
There is so much peace of mind in souls
But still restless anxiety in egos
Overwhelmed just to think of the incredible beauty in the human spirit
But yet such ugliness it can produce with evil twists!
Always swinging from extremes,
From contentment to resentment,
From gratefulness to bitterness,
From leniency to severity…
How much more ways can we say
That our moods from side to side sway?
Like a pendulum, we swing.
Like a pendulum, I swing.
.
Allah the Knower of hearts Knows Best.
–A.S.
So much weighs her down.
Her morale slipping.
Her positive energy draining.
Many a burden weigh her down.
Which may explain why
At this moment right now,
She isn’t thinking
She deserves love.
Love is an ambiguous word
With many a differently interpreted world
But here’s the “love” she decides
She doesn’t, and won’t ever, deserve…
Love
Of a flimsy but popular kind
The kind that takes your imagination everywhere
But ends up really going nowhere
The kind with metal strings and insecure conditions
That force her to one-sidedly make endless compromises
Love
Of a kind that could make her
Hate herself.
No, she does not deserve that kind of less-than-enough love.
She deserves the genuine kind: more than enough.
Love
Of rare but gold-dripping quality
The kind that is boundless in mercy
The kind with many a flaw that is
Forever being addressed and being fixed
The kind that is solid and does not melt at the slightest heat
Love
Of a kind that the more she loves another,
Increases her own self-love.
Genuine soul-quenching love is rare.
She knows it could be right around the corner.
Or right around the decade.
Or perhaps, right around another lifetime.
She knows there is a possibility she may never find it.
But that’s okay.
She knows the kind of love she deserves.
And she could give it to herself.
Finding a sincere lover would be more than enough.
Her present self-love is already enough.
But to settle for less than enough?
Never.
~
“people hate it when you know your worth. you draw the line, you set the precedence, you stand your ground, and they flip the coin on you and make it seem like you’re the one with a problem. “you’re too demanding, you’re too selective, you’re too judgmental, you’re too unrealistic”. no, i’m neither of those things. i just love myself. i love myself enough to know what i need, what will improve me, what will grow me, what i deserve. i’m loving myself, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.” (Billy Chapata, Sour Honey & Soul Food)
And God knows Best.
-A.S.
I was cleaning out some books and stumbled upon some short poems I wrote in 2015. Here is one of them! 
Love will find you,
even if you’ve given up
on it.
It is, slowly,
starting to
creep on me.
I will hold my ground.
It shall not be
a battleground
of shattered hearts.
–A.S.
2015
I was cleaning out some books and stumbled upon some short poems I wrote in 2015. Here is one of them!
I am weary
Of being told not to be weary
Yet when I am at ease
I’m told to put my relaxation on freeze…
For there is much that calls my attention
So I am aware and go everywhere
Then I am told, as a friendly recommendation
To ease up a bit and take a vacation.
So I pack up for it only to be told
There are pressing matters here – put your plans on hold!
You can imagine how weary I get
When told not to be such
For when I take it light-heartedly,
It still seems to be too much!
~
–A.S.
2015
I was cleaning out some books and stumbled upon some short poems I wrote in 2015. Here is one of them!
Oh, sweet rain
Do what rain does…
Drown
my needless worries away
Drench
my heart with gratitude throughout the day
Purify
my thoughts that from importance stray
Shower
upon me realisations of wise insights implanted
Let every droplet of water
alert me to a blessing I have taken for granted
Oh sweet rain, in all that you do
Rain upon me what the merciful rain can do.
-A.S.
August 26, 2015
