Kindred Spirit

Star Light, Star Bright

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.

Glamorous

February 18, 2019

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Words Have Power

Stay Blossoming

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)

Like a Pendulum

Oval Ornaments

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.

Deserving Love

Abandoned Window Art

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.

~
Color and White

“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.

Battleground

I was cleaning out some books and stumbled upon some short poems I wrote in 2015. Here is one of them! Scattered

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

Weary

I was cleaning out some books and stumbled upon some short poems I wrote in 2015. Here is one of them!Sacred

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

 

Oh, Sweet Rain

I was cleaning out some books and stumbled upon some short poems I wrote in 2015. Here is one of them!

Near Land

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

Courageous Decisions

Enjoying the View

Oh, to come to a decision
That was a weight on the chest…
Though there were very opposite options,
Each seemed both better and best…
Simply unable to focus on anything,
All thoughts between this dilemma pressed!

Both roads involving risks
But which risks are most worthy to take?
Shall I think mostly with my head and logic trust,
Or my heart to avoid facing a heartache?

After a painstakingly long time of thinking
Of how to see a clear-sky view behind these boulders
I finally came to a firm choice –
And what a mountain load off my shoulders!

I finally made a decision, and
It doesn’t matter if it’s the right one or wrong.
Ultimately I thought it out, I felt it strong
And now my spirit is dancing to its song.

Grand decisions require courage to accept risks,
But courage does not come easy, nor does sacrifice
Yet some mysteries cannot be revealed
Unless you’re willing to pay uncertainty as the price.

When you come to a decision,
Breathing becomes easier and lighter.
Spring’s fragrance of hope is more vivid.
Colours are mightier and brighter.

Oh, to come to a decision
That was a weight on the chest…
When you make a firm choice,
After thinking for so long,
You will only find out later if it truly was the best choice or not.
But at least you were being courageous all along.

A.S.
April 23/18

Are There Really Any Words?

Wings

Words are a blessing,
That we use to express everything
But are words really enough?
~
Is there really a word to describe…
 ~
The longing that sweet memories cannot satisfy?
The heart-flying feeling under the umbrella of a blue sky?
The breaking sweet pain that holds the hand of healing?
The steady chaotic rhythm of events unfurling and swirling?
The melody of rising and slippery sliding hopes?
The recognition of metaphysical ropes and incredible power to cope?
The music of even anxiety, suspense, and naive expectation?
The new life breathed into one held hostage in a moment of inspiration?
The way one’s heart swells at the sounds of truth and recognition?
~
Oh, what can one really come to say
When there doesn’t seem to be a right way…
~
To describe —
longings, heart-flying feelings,
musics of states, inspiration and heart-swellings…
breaking sweet pain, chaotic steady rhythms, hope,
rising and falling melodies, and metaphysical ropes…
~
Are there really any words?
~
Romantic Red

 

And God knows Best.
A.S. (Dec.2, 2017)

Wordless Poetry

A Beautiful City

When you think of poetry, your mind drifts to paper

Paper with words artistically linked together by a writer…

But what if I were to declare that poetry can be wordless, too?

《》

Poetry is the wind’s sweet caresses on your cheeks through an open window

Poetry is allowing your inner positive energy to surge upwards and make you glow

《》

Poetry is the majestic standing of a white mosque’s pillars

Poetry is entering a new space and feeling like it’s somehow all familiar

《》

Poetry is the resilience-themed messages sprayed about with graffiti paint

Poetry is reading a soul-fulfilling book in a cozy coffeehouse so quaint

《》

Poetry is the quiet playing of Coldplay’s best songs against the backdrop of Ramallah’s streets

Poetry is you turning an empty canvas and acrylic paint into your own secret retreat

《》

Poetry is the plentiful “astaghfirullah” signs on orderly lined up palm trees

Poetry is the cheerful morning sounds of roosters and darling birdies

《》

Poetry is the waterfall-like effect of vines against rocky walls

Poetry is the sound waves of overlapping athan, or prayer calls…

《》

When you used to think of poetry, your mind once drifted to paper

Paper with words artistically linked together by a writer…

But now you know, based on the journeys you flew

That poetry can also be wordless, too.

Pretty Pink
God always knows Best.

Nov.19, 2017, on the way to Hebron from Ramallah

– A.S.