“COME ALIVE”

Woman-Self-Love
Credits to artist

 

Blindsided-
To her own glistening light
She can’t see herself in the mirror
Can’t see herself in my eyes

I tell her: take it off!
This wolf skin
This lion roar
The scales of a predatory
reptile
Take it off, I say
There is no one coming after us
No one can take me away
I say
No one can break us today
I say, so take it off
And let me see.

I live for the cracks around your lips when you smile
I love how you love even when it means falling apart
I breathe in your soul the perfect blend of tears and laughter
Oh, don’t let me die tonight
I want to see you bare
Trust me,
We will be safe there
And you won’t have to hide
So darling come with me to come
Alive.
And don’t let me die.


Heyy loves. I hope you all are having beautiful lives, I am too Alhamdlillah. I struggle a lot with self love and especially these past few days were exceptionally hard to get through. So today in the early morning I wrote this poem. For the first time ever, a love letter to myself. 🙂 Hope you guys liked it!

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“GAMES”

Below is part 5 of “The Purge” series.
This is the first poem I’ve written that talks about some part of the experience of womanhood as a whole, in terms of my own personal journey as well as the women I see around me in the world. I really hope you like it! 🙂


 

I am not a glorified playground-
easy to run all over.
I am not your sandcastle by the beach-
easy to wash away,
with a little bit of saltiness from the sea.

I will not be your battlefield!
To shoot who you want
with my mouth;
to slay men like you, for you,
with my smiles;
to stab to death
whom you owe debts
to,
with the touch of my fingers on their skin.

I will not be sold,
or bought,
or traded,
or advertised.

Shrinking,
to leave more space for your confidence
to fit in.
Your hollow pride,
from harming those who did not know how to fight…

Everything!

I punished myself for, for decades
ever since I learnt the meaning of punishment.

 

-II-

 

If you think my lips are sewn with battle cries,
think again!
I use each word I write
as rungs of a ladder, climbing up,
and over these walls of shame
that you had decided to lock me within.

I am tired
of men like you
who think I am their plaything
That I am a right
they were born with
and there’s nothing left,
of me to stop them.

You use me
and teach me
to be ashamed of it;
of everything I know you did.

I will not sit here washing away the stains
of my… being.
You do not get to escape, spotless.

These are not my sins,
not my stains,
not my cages,
not
my
shame.

Hereby, I return it all to you
whom it rightfully belongs to,
I quit your circus, your poker games
that only you could ever win-

Congratulations, on losing.

 

“THE PAST, THE PRESENT AND PROMISES”

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’

mmm…kay?

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
too damaged,
too erratic,
too caring,
too
much
me,

It stings.

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,
familiar,
even easy;

but the light,
oh the light!
When it runs through my veins like electricity,
I think,

I could do this forever,
And never get burnt.

“LISTEN”

The second part to the “Purge” series. 


 

Terrible nightmares, the rare kind
are normal
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.”

I say,
“You are not alone.”

But, you!
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:

The abusers
The rapists
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
Damn, girl!/
Damn, boy!/
Damn, self!
You are lit!
And I adore you for it.

It is time that you did too.

“UNDONE”

I held a little red brick
In my little kid arms
And I walked on, miles
till the sun came down.
And I did this for days
little labour it looked like
that a little kid bore
But I built a palace
like never seen before.
Then one night came spring
It knocked on the gate
I welcomed it in
But it left the next day.
And I glanced up at the tower
Where I’d lived so long
And what fell in my feet
Was a little red brick.
One by one
they tumbled down
And the walls of my palace,
like broken doors now.
To the gardens I ran,
only to find
that little red dewdrops
now covered the green.
Confused and disheartened,
I turned around
Glanced at my chest,
and pain I found
Flowing in the form
of a swift red river.

The “dewdrops” had not come from the sky
And the bricks had not fallen from the towers
But my castle had crumbled down
And my blood had washed it away;
Just little red bricks
In a swift red river;
Leading into an endless sea.

“Weeps December”

Weeps my heart and weeps December

I hope that you will always remember 

The pearl you held in your palm, white

Back when our fire burned bright

I wonder when it burned us both

Ought to give warmth, but turned us both

Into strangers, running on parallel paths

Through the moon’s eclipse and the night’s wrath

Oh when will the stars come out again?

Oh when will the dawn of hope begin? 

I will meet you then, at the first sunrise

Where the abyss collides with paradise

I’ll show my book of adventures to you

And you’ll find your home, with my chaos too

’til it’s calm like the breeze your soul brings 

And we shall be made of beautiful things

But first, oh love, we must get through

The trials fate birthed, maybe to prove

The strength of our faith in what we hold

How brave we are and just how bold

Let the season weep! We shall endure

In the end, our hearts will have only loved more.


(Fun fact: I came up with the first verse of this poem 8 months ago, in December; and didn’t want to change that just now when I wrote the rest of it. Hope you liked it! :))

“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.