“!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. 

Wish I could remember/Wish I could forget

Wish I could remember
the soft strokes of
my mother’s fingers
in my hair.

Wish I could forget
his hands,
strong as a tree trunk
But not so friendly, or kind.

Wish I could remember
The way you looked,
at the moon; and me.
And joked just to hear me laugh.

Wish I could forget,
the day you made me cry
like everything we had built
had fallen apart.

Wish I could remember
The pixies I would look for
Out in the garden, after
every Enid Blyton story.

Wish I could forget
The demons that I found
When looking for pixies
didn’t go so well.

Wish I could remember
the cracks in your voice;
and the way you look
when you read.

Wish I could forget
that I know how you look
when you are angry
or sad.

Wish I could remember
the way my best friend said
that I was the best thing
to ever happen to mankind.

Wish I could forget
the morning we both cried
Fighting, pain and cruelty.
And the desire to stop.

Wish I could remember
the patterns on your palms
Of lines that I simply
could not count.

Wish I could forget
the wounds on my palms
Picking pieces of broken glass.
Will you just stop loving me one day?

Wish I could remember
what not knowing felt like
why is wisdom
so painful to gain?

Wish I could forget
The never-ending coldness
of hearts that proved to me
how I could not save them, with my love.

Wish I could remember
The words of prayer, that you
whispered for me today
With tears in your eyes.

Wish I could forget
The terrifying things
that my mind screams at me
About the universe, and you.

For us,
everything hangs in the balance.
But high above in the stars
Someone is waiting
for us to just look up.

“HOME”

(Disclaimer: Not a traditional poem but I think it’s closer to the spoken word poetry category)


“HOME”

Decade, upon decade; I tell fate
Being loved by strangers catches me off guard,
Surprises me- “Is this what it is supposed to feel like?”
Is it really like they show in the movies?
Sisters, brothers, fathers and mothers
Is home really just people, who know and even care
about which side of the bed you like most.

Oh, I wouldn’t know, so don’t ask me how.
The only home that I have ever felt
lives outside of my house.
Out there, separated; from my blood.
Because on the genetic code map in these cells,
somehow, home was never marked.

I am sorry, dear home, for getting scared so easily
Not knowing where to go when you are not in my sights.
For I am still learning, how to receive all this love
that you so freely give me
As though I am actually as amazing as you say.

I try to hold on to the little amount these walls taught
Here, love was hiding and shutting up.
But then again, you are not like these walls.
You are kinder and you care.
You actually know which side of the seat I like most,
and how I sleep talk or “sleep type” sometimes.

I chuckle, and then sigh as I walk back inside
and these walls are still as cruel as before I met you.
I’m about to whisper to fate:
“Please make this stop, before I forget how to give love too.”
But I don’t, I can’t.
Cause you’re looking right at me
Smiling across the room.

And we both know, we finally understand
this is what home feels like.