Read more ‘Threads’.
Read more ‘Threads’.
I have been feeling a bit extra jerky these past few days and I finally wrote Part 6 of “The Purge” series (yay). If you follow this blog you might know that The Purge is about my experience living with, and hopefully overcoming, mental illness, while also learning to accept my whole self- past, present and future.
The poem below is based on how when you find any kind of love and support while having a medical condition (in my case, a depressive disorder); it can be so overwhelming because you don’t think you deserve it and even worse, you have this overwhelming urge that before they wake up and realise how lousy you are, you should just get up, and
Bang bang boom
Boom bang boom
After the crash I look at myself
Bruises and wounds,
Blood and debris,
I get up with a broken leg
Look behind and who
Is that, coming after me with a saw?
I hate that it looks like you
So I start running
Running without shoes
Oh the blisters may be bleeding
But I’ll be safe from truth.
I run and run till winter comes
I don’t stop when my feet go numb
All I know to do
I know I said I loved you
But what could I do
I was afraid
I am afraid
And running is all I want to do.
Running when the spring flowers brush against my ankles
Running in the summer heat, sweat
The shadow I make for a moment
Before I run from it too, into
autumn leaves falling down
I’m tired but I can’t stop now
I have to get away from you
I have to find a way to
Protect this heart this body this mind
I have to take care of what’s mine
I have to get home…
Through seasons and months
Of running from
The monters that make
My heart lose beats
My lungs forget to breathe
My eyes abandon sleep
I get myself back home
Where else could I have gone
I ran right back to you.
Part 4 of “The Purge” series:
I used to wear my halo
like the devil wears his pride
Well, look here, I broke it now
The truth, I will not hide.
No more never swearing
at assholes, no more smiles.
And when you say, ‘fuck you’
I say, ‘you’re too late to the party’
Did you think this would continue to rhyme?
No, it wouldn’t.
My slightly broken, slightly erratic,
badass-as-hell self, welcomes you!
This body is my turf now-
I will fill it with flowers,
paintings, and chandeliers made of dewdrops
… and healthy food maybe?
I will decorate the walls with awards:
“Congratulations on getting up today!”,
“Congratulations on working out!”
“Congratulations on not killing yourself, or wanting to!”
“Congratulations on making it this far”
I will tell it
that it does not have to bend, or break
every time somebody wants
to feed their ego with its cries.
You can go around me,
if I’m taking up too much space.
Now I won’t lie and act
like I don’t care anymore;
My heart still breaks
when a little kid fixes my car,
when babies are thrown away if their body parts,
do not conform to the rules of normalcy,
when you tell me that I’m
And it stings most of all, to fight back.
It stings to let the light in
It stings to like being loved
It stings to not hate, loving me.
But watch as I do it any way.
For the darkness may be comfortable,
but the light,
oh the light!
When it runs through my veins like electricity,
I could do this forever,
And never get burnt.
Part 3 of “The Purge” series
For days when your heart does not remember
How to be a giant slaying warrior
walking in slow-mo into battle
Like Wonder Woman-
in No Man’s Land;
For days when the nightmare that woke you up
wakes up with you
It smiles, leaning against the kitchen counter
In a bathrobe, sipping coffee
As you stand there hating yourself
for what you’ve just done;
For days when the day
feels too long to live through;
Put your hand over your heart and say,
“Slow down, cowboy!”
It has just realized that it is too big
to be caged inside your body.
“Or maybe, your body is just too small!”
Give it a smile.
Say, “I love you.”
Hold it close and tuck it in,
into the comfiest comfort blanket you own…
And stand still.
Even when needles start climbing up your back
saying how you are worth nothing, if you do not move:
“If you do not move, you are worth nothing!”
Just stand still.
Let the world be itself.
It is okay to stop fighting
You know, depression does not come easy.
It comes, after you have been stabbed
192 times in your gut,
only to pull open the stitches.
And the pills,
they make you feel like you’re lying to yourself.
And the people,
they ask on your good days:
“Did you take an extra dose of your mood elevators?”
These are my own endorphins.
I know how to make them.
And sometimes you want to
Step 1: Throw up and cry
Step 2: Fail at the throwing up part
Step 3: Just cry;
For one moment!
Breathe it all in.
Breathe in the scents
of flowers that go to sleep with the sun,
coming from beyond your walls of sadness.
Open the door.
Walk two steps outside;
And stand still.
Breathe in the beautiful songs
of birds who, too, have not yet found their way back home.
Breathe in the dancing river
that, also, does not know how to be steady
Even as it stands still.
So breathe in,
The dragon with enormous wings
Soaring through the sky-
if that is who you are in your dreams.
Because your heart, too,
is a masterpiece!
It does not have to find home…
It will grow one.
The second part to the “Purge” series.
Terrible nightmares, the rare kind
For people who have seen them come true
Before they even dreamt them.
I’m woken up everyday at exactly 5 am
It’s like my body knows when the monsters come
Like it knows: the unwanted touch
Like it knows: the bleeding wound
Like it knows: the bruises
Like it knows: screams crawling into my skin
Like it knows: exactly where all the scars are.
After I wake
My heat rattles like a wooden toolbox
too big for the number of nails inside it.
My hands tremble, I say, “Hush!
You’re braver than this!”
I say, “Hush! Allah is here.”
I say, “How much of this will be real?”
I say, “We don’t know yet but
lets hope not too much.”
“You are not alone.”
Do you have tears in your eyes yet?
I know you’re there too.
I know you’re just like me.
So listen closely, to
what I’m about to tell you:
And the liars
Cannot put out the fires
We’ve lit inside our bones.
They make the world bright
They make the culprits burn!
175 years in prison
or 175 million, in hell.
And sometimes, they hurt…
When we don’t want them.
But, honey! Want them!
For they are your recompense
Your own personal miracle.
They are your soul, lit!
Lit enough to light others,
Lit enough to make an example
out of how lit you are
You are lit!
And I adore you for it.
It is time that you did too.
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.