“Just a Little More”

​You ask me why I don’t get angry?

It’s because I’ve watched my world burn

To ashes and smoke

Over and over and over again

And I’ve washed the blood trails

Of my wounds

Left on the flowers on my shirt

With my own hands

And I’ve lost my brother

To his hatred of another

And in any love they give

There is none left as mine

And I’ve loved those

Who broke me from up close

And yet I still love

With as fierce a love as any

That could survive being blown up

In landmines; maybe in this faded love

There is more strength

Than the love that allows free taking

As if divine

And with every passing year

I’ve paid for their sins

With my honour and shame, and

A streak of heartbreaks

And trust broken.

 

So don’t ask me why I don’t get angry

Because I am angry

Maybe just starting to be

Or maybe I’ve been

For a long time

But I have been hurt too

And moved

And awed

And loved

And celebrated

And pushed to the brink of survival

From where only my miracles could get me back

And how they did.

Oh, how they did!

So maybe I am burnt

And very much so,

But I am also reborn

My spirit, rekindled

And if my love can survive landmines

Then mere anger, holds no chance

I am going to try

Until it bends before me

And turns into determination

And fierce as it may be

It will be called mine.

And I’m going to hold on

“Just a little more”,

A thousand more times.


Hello everyone! I hadn’t written here in a long time because I think I was not brave enough to accept some things. I hope that this piece of spoken word poetry (arguably the most unapologetic kind of poetry) makes up for that. And I hope you liked it! 🙂

Threads #33

​There are some people we meet that are destined to make us failures. They’re part of our losses and pains.

But you? You’re part of my win. And I don’t mind if it takes me my whole life to get to that win, I will get there. Because when the universe does us favours, we don’t give them up. We don’t let go.

Read more “Threads”

“The stories in the sky”

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The sky was dark blue like the bruises on my heart, but it was not scarred. Didn’t He ask us to look up and see if we could find any cracks in it?
And the sky was purple with shades of pink and I wonder if it’s alright to say I was reminded of blueberry ice cream but that’s irrelevant because the world turned and turned again, as we spoke.
And soon it was light blue, like the ocean that I witnessed. And it was only Al Mussawir (The Artist) that could create such a spectacular master piece where the highest sky and the lowest sea met and embraced each other as if one.
And then a tinge of orange, that was rising from the East. It spread slowly, inspiring the birds to start flying with it. And they sung the merriest songs and I, much like William Wordsworth, could not help but stop to listen and get lost in them.
And the sky was then yellow, like fire that eats up everything in its path; and so did the sunlight as it shone upon all that the eye could see.
And then the sky turned orange once more. But now it was sinking, like my hopes did and I was terrified of losing all the light that I had before.
And soon came the light blue, as I bid farewell to what I loved. We were warned that everything except Him has an ending, but we forgot Him and remembered everything else.
And the sky was purple again and again the pink streaks ran through it, reminding me to not believe in the absoluteness of anything I could see because my eye could be deceived very easily, if my heart lost track. “It is not the eyes that are blind, but the hearts”, He said.
And now I stood enveloped by an endless dark blue, and all I had was the pieces of my heart and an abyss to gaze into.
But then something twinkled. I saw a star, and then a hundred more. And I looked down and the world glowed. The tears in my eyes became diamonds, reflecting the light of the moon, reflecting the light of the sun, reflecting the light of my Lord.
And He smiles down at me, as the universe echoes, “Verily, with hardhsip comes ease.” He said He is with the patient ones, and now I see. My broken heart feels more complete than the one inside the chest of the man who has everything.
And to the quietness of the night, I carry this heart, with some blueberry ice cream and the feeling of waves touching my ankles. In the brilliance of constellations that tell me stories about how His mercy outweighs His wrath; I find myself, right in the middle of the embrace between the black sky and the black sea.
Now don’t you ever think that you’ve been left alone. He loves you too much for that.

“!جان” (Know!)

Reblogging because Ramadan is near and I am so excited!! May Allah shower His blessings upon us all. 🙂

GIRL WITH THE GREEN BOOK

تو اگر جان لیتا کہ خدا تیرے لئے کیا کچھ کرتا ہے
!تو سجدے میں ایسا گرتا کے مرنے کے بعد ہی اٹھایا جاتا

Kafan mai lipta hua tera chehra muskuraata; ke “Dekh! Dekh aye khuda! Mai Tere ehsaano ka kuch haq ada tou na karsaka lekin koshish mai saari zindagi bita di.”

Magar tu tou ghafil raha hai.

Hamesha se, aur hamesha ke liye. Khuda ne tujh ko ghaltiyon ka putla banaya, tujhe azmaane ke liye. Ye dekhne ke liye ke kab kab tu hazaaron cheekhti chillati awazon ke beech apni rooh ki awaz ko sun paaye ga. Un ehsaano ko yaad kar paaye ga, jo Wo tujh pe karta hai.

Wo chahta tou teri jahaalat dekh kar tujh ko is zameen mai mila deta, jo din raat Uske hukum se tere pairon ke neeche thehri bethi hai.

Wo chahta tou tera taghaful dekhta, aur aik awaz pe ye asmaan…

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A Tribute to Maybes

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Credits: Candle Noel Cranston

Maybe you make messiahs out of people because you do not want to be the one responsible when the world comes crashing down, and you don’t want to be alone.

Maybe it is okay to not help but start welling up when someone speaks too loud; like each wave of vibration from their voice causes an earthquake inside your skin and bones.

Maybe it is fine to miss people who went back to Allah too soon. Maybe it is just selfishness to miss them if they were here you could ask them for help and advice but maybe that’s okay. Maybe some people are sent only to give you, and not to love you and stay.

But maybe you are stronger than you think. You chose the difficult roads with big rewards at the end. For instance, If I hadn’t moved to a different country, back to where I never felt like I belonged, away from my parents and my little sister and the long drives at night; then how would I have met my best friend who changed my life? How would I have learnt to handle everything on my own, from finances to health and education, to official government procedures to fit into this new place? How would I know how “Veronica Decides to Die” can lead to whispering to myself, “I want to fight on for the better things ahead.”

Maybe the heaps of love you have in your heart for other people, makes being tortured and alone and sick, all worth it? And maybe the time of sickness is now gone, maybe now is the time for the sun to come up? Maybe having a dark past is alright, because of all the light it gave birth to, inside your chest, that now ruminates everywhere… And people think it is your smile that’s contagious.

Maybe it is okay to put flowers in your hair, because who cares if you world came tumbling down yesterday, let’s just sit and breathe the evening air and feel good. Because man, are you a badass! Maybe your hands tremble, maybe you cannot speak, or breathe or stand up sometimes; but hasn’t the frequency of such episodes decreased?

And maybe it is okay to be a tad bit super proud of yourself, for all that you’ve accomplished. Because maybe no one else could have done it like you.