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For someone special…

Leave the scent of your soul behind
I’ll follow it to get to you.

But don’t go too far
what if in search of you
I lose myself too.

Just stay close to me
hold my hand and help me rise
but don’t look at me like that
I’ll lose myself in your eyes

I don’t need a map
but a promise that you’ll always stay
how can I ever lose my road back home
when you’ve become my way?

I don’t need the sky
or the twinkling stars
because every path and journey I take
lead me back to where you are

You have a smile worth a thousand suns
and a glint of hazel beauty in your eyes
you have arms as wide as the horizon
and a soul as pure as the sky.

I wrote this for someone special. Someone who’s voice makes me smile. Someone who has beauty dripping from their soul. Someone who said I remind them of a joke….

Happy birthday same-same….

Why you held on for so long…

I’m doubting myself again
and I don’t know what to do
do I give up or do I pull myself through?

But the days are getting darker
and I don’t see the light
what’s the point of this crusade
when I can’t even fight?

The journey seems too long
and the mountains are too high
I’m sinking to the ground
yet I’m aiming for the sky.

I have wounds as thick as oceans
and bruises as dark as coal
how do I move ahead
when I don’t know where to go.

I don’t have a shield
or a cover above my head
I’m breathing and wheezing
but something in me is dead.

Don’t give up. Not now not ever.
remember why you held on for so long
doubt will only break you
but my love, I know you’re very strong.

Your wounds may be many
and you may be feeling down
but why are you afraid of falling
when you’ve risen from the ground.

Take a break
inhale. Victory is yours to kiss
I believe in you
I know you can do this.

Poetry book: Curing My Venom

POETRY: The blast and the little boy…

I don’t know if it was a dream
because it was something, I couldn’t believe.

I saw a boy with tears in his eyes
and fire burning his hope alive.

He quietly looked up and to God, he prayed
“please kill me once and not every day.”

I couldn’t watch so I ran and hugged him tight
I promised him it would be all right.

His fragile eyes looked into mine
his empty soul asked me “why?”

I had no answer to what he asked
he hugged me tight as we heard another blast.

We saw those people run as fast as they could
to get away from this rain of blood.

Shouts and screams now filled the air around
more bodies and guns fell to the ground.

Those people were broken, they had nowhere to go
they lost their dreams and now all their hope.

The little boy looked into my eyes and to me he said
“When will it stop, why won’t this end?
They burned my teachers and shot all my friends
they killed my dad and my mother’s now dead.
they tortured my brother until he couldn’t breathe
I just watched my sister beg on her knees.”

The little boy sobbed as tears rolled down his cheek
He choked on his words, as he tried to speak,
“I’m scared of those bullets and the bombs they hold
please tell them to stop so I could go back home
but why would you care, this isn’t your life
I’ll just tell God everything, and he’ll ask you why?”

He slowly moved back as bullets pierced through his head
he was right, no one helped him it was just all pretend.

He slowly faded away as I saw him smiling
“I’m already dead save someone else from dying
let go of your ego and don’t let pride come in your way
free these people let them live one more day
those leaders have power, they don’t care where you are
they divided you into groups and are making you fight their war
lend a hand, not to culture, religion or race
but to those people who have a past to erase.”

What he had said echoed somewhere in my mind?
Why were we killing if we wanted to survive?

Fire wasn’t on this land it was in those hearts
not another nation but humanity was burning apart.

Everything vanished and I knew it was a dream
but for the 10-year-old boy, it was real,
something I still couldn’t believe.

Picture: Pexels

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Being Anti-social

I’m anti-social. Sometimes. Depending on the people and the circumstance and the time and space and the atmosphere.

I’m semi anti-social or partial anti-social. Or maybe 3/4th anti-social. Or maybe 1/4th anti-social. But the point is that I’m anti-social regardless of how non-anti-social I want to be.

I get nervous around people I’m not used to. Unconsciously, I sink into that dark part of my brain that I dread going into because I drown in questions. Like why do you have that scar on your arm? Were you abused? Did you self-harm? Was it an accident? Why do you have that dark look in your eyes? Do you worship the devil? Does the devil worship you? It’s like I want to know everything about everyone. Maybe because it gives me a clear perspective of where I stand. Am I comparing myself to them? Maybe? Or maybe like Einstein, I’m generally curious about everything and everyone. Like why is chlorophyll green? Why are all the other colors absorbed but green reflected? Why freaking Green? Why not purple? Can we time travel if we travel at the speed of light? What is light? Is it just the absence of darkness? 

Got side-tracked: but when I meet new people or old people I’m not used to, I start observing them like test subjects. Experiment vs control- Where I am the control and everyone else is the experiment.  I notice their actions, the way they speak, the way they interact, the way they smile. I don’t know why I do this. Maybe because in my mind I see everyone as a threat and observing them makes the threat lessen. I honestly don’t know why this happens? It’s like my mind goes into this frenzy and then there’s chaos. Maybe there is some deep unconscious trauma that I can’t pinpoint. Maybe I just overthink which ends up making everything worse for myself.

Some people I meet are the kindest ever, yet I go into this mode. And the worst part is people think I’m creepy because I stare at them way too long or they think I’m showing superiority or attitude when honestly all I’m trying to do is make myself approachable and social.

Picture from pexels

Wrenched anniversary

“It’s our anniversary,” she says so softly over the phone that I can barely hear her.

“That’s amazing! Are you gonna celebrate?” I ask trying to sound gleeful even though it’s 4 am in the morning, and I’m sleepy.

She doesn’t say anything and all I hear is her uneven breathing. “I’ve wasted eighteen years of my life.” There’s remorse in her voice, the kind you get when someone close to you passes away. She’s been married for eighteen years. Time passes by so fast when you’re not the one suffering.

“Huh.” I try to act oblivious even though I know what she’s talking about. She’s never mentioned it to me, but I’ve eased dropped enough to figure out things that I’m not supposed to know.

“Nothing child,” she steers away from the conversation and asks me about college, and when I’m getting married. I laugh it off and brush the conversation to something more convenient, like the weather. We can talk about things that are unimportant for hours, but when it comes to important things, we either have no words or we lose our voices.

Why is it so hard to say what’s on my mind? I want to press her, ask her for the details but I’m terrified of her answer. Sometimes the words I want to spit out are lingering on the tip of my tongue but no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to say them. It’s like they’re caged behind these metal bars that won’t let my words pass.

I know her because I love her like a second mother, but I haven’t exactly been the perfect daughter. I know the torture she’s been through and it gets me angry every time I hear her hopeless voice. I wish I could do more for her then just listen. But how can I help someone else win their war when I’m losing my own battles.

She seems perfect from the outside. We all do, but no one knows what’s happening behind closed doors. Some smiles are etched with knives of pain. Sometimes devils don’t wear horns, they come to you wearing divine wings. And the worst part is that these devils don’t even know they’re devils because they’re hiding beneath culture, sex, ego and power.

What I don’t get is why we become so afraid to speak? Maybe because we’re afraid no one will listen or understand. Maybe we’re afraid of the gossip. Maybe it’s easier to hide beneath veils then to be exposed.

I don’t know why she stayed. She says it’s because of the culture we grew up in and because she had children and there was no way she could fend for herself in a world where divorced women are considered taboo.

I remember hearing once that her husband beat her up because she left the house without covering her face. I do blame the husband but also the mentality he grew up in and sadly we’re still living in that same time frame.

People around me still have that mindset and no matter how loud I scream or speak, my voice falls on deaf ears. People think it’s better to endure abuse than to unveil that curtain. I don’t blame them because I am not in that position and I have no idea what they’re going through. But not speaking up ruin’s future generations. It creates abusers and victims. I’ve seen way too many women around me suffer in silence and their silence screams in my ears.

She- whose name I can’t mention is still in that position. Her children are a mess and it breaks my heart every time I talk to her or see her. I wish I could do more for her and other women like her.

Photo by Northwoods Murphy from Pexels