“Write about fading memories.. and our tireless efforts to preserve them...”

Tomorrow’s Memory

When I was asked to write about fading memories, the first idea to emerge into my thoughts was to write about all the wonderful things I could remember experiencing as a child. It was only later I discovered that this wasn’t something I could write about at all.

The human memory fascinates me. Countless psychologists dedicate time and study to this mind-boggling fact that is the memory, and the ability to remember. However I’m much more interested in the will we possess to recollect. What controls our capability to form a memory at one occasion and remise at another.

I truly believe there is a reason for this, just as there is a reason for everything on this earth and beyond. If our minds retained the possibility of storing every piece of information we encounter throughout our lifetime, to an extent that we could recall every trace of our existence in this life, could you imagine what life would be like? The world would come to an absolute halt. Forgetting is a good thing, much better than remembrance.

Although I don’t particularly favour to associate myself with what has become, I can’t help but find myself in the vast fields that is my past. Scouring through the archives in search for answers, for lessons, or sometimes just to find a smile and that loss of a single heart beat as my eyes fix on a gaze and my mind exerts on an expedition to once upon a time. I then find that I can in fact strongly relate to the title of this piece on another level altogether.

I am only human. And therefore am the owner of a discrete diary or memoir rather, into which only the most special memories are kept, locked away deep into the unknown of my heart. Good times, happy, sad and miserable times, times we laughed and times we cried with all that we have inside us.

Sometimes we cling onto our memories as a child would cling onto their mother, memories of loved ones who have passed on, events, occasions, people and places. Whatever the reason we sometimes cling on so hard, as if this were to change time. Or sometimes we use it as a tool to shape our future, the effects of which could equally be advantageous as they could be disastrous.

I’m not sure about those reading this now but generally I have found that we tend to make memories of those times of either utter euphoria or times of utter despair. Everything else seems to be a blur in between. And yet we do not tire, but instead invest in even more dedication to preserve what seems to be another life. Without which an immense sense of insecurity seems to creep up from behind and threaten all that we hold dear.

Memories are immensely personal, something nobody can take away from us, an escape in times of need. Its Gods gift, nature’s equivalent to the high tech mobiles, cameras and memory sticks of today. I’m truly grateful for all the wonderful times, even the saddest of times too. They have made me who I am today, unique, and unlike anyone else in this world. I’m blessed with beautiful memories and the reason is because I’m blessed with beautiful friends and family who make my reality. At the tender age of 19, I’m apprehensive of what is to become and tremendously attached to the memories I have chosen to preserve. However for the time being, I’m going to dedicate all that I have in making some magnificent memories for the future.

“Damsel in distress”

To you,

Catch me before I fall,
Before the autumn leaves touch the floor,
Save me before I drift,
Before the crashing waves bury the shore.

Exhausted I wait for my hero,
Be my saviour, my salvation,
Knowing with time you will come,
I wither, I fade in anticipation.

My faith that you’ll return deteriorates,
I stand on the edge of hope alone,
Prove wrong the weakness in me,
And lean your merciless heart of stone.

Wake up and breathe, inhale the sunshine,
Will you hear my fading plea?
I never wanted to walk away,
Don’t leave me an empty entity.

I dream, as time runs through my hands
I dream, then dreams turn into fire,
And as the flames in me intoxicate,
The shadow of smoke shapes my desire.

The girl looking back in my reflection,
Has lost all her sense of direction,
It’s getting harder and harder with each day,
What will be the use, if I slip away?
Open your eyes, can’t you see?
I’m asking you please, to catch me.

To catch me before I fall,
Before the autumn leaves touch the floor,
Save me before I drift,
Before the crashing waves bury the shore.

Sincerely, Sincerity

Baba

Such a beautiful word, but I wont lie, I only discovered its true value once mine was taken away. I had taken such advantage.

Lately I’ve felt like I’ve been riding on a continual none ending emotional rollercoaster, this sensation residing in me on a daily bases. At first my initial thought was… daily routine is “killing me softly” I need a holiday! Then I came to realise I didn’t need the Bahamas, I needed my Baba!

Its funny how when someone you love or hold dearly is with you, providing that warmth that guiding hand, that loving whisper in every breath of life, you tend to take it all for granted. Its funny how only once they’re gone, does it become difficult to look at the bigger picture and instead it’s the small things that make us weep, and keep us up in the middle of the night. The little things, the things it’s easier for us to come to expect are those which make a bigger impact in our daily lives, and are those which we miss the most when are taken away.

I miss waking up in the morning and finding Baba had already been up since dawn, eaten his breakfast and started the day. I always used to try and wake up before him just one day was all I wanted, but sleep always prevailed!
I miss Baba’s breakfast duties, the way he used to wait for us to wake up then ask what we wanted for breakfast, which was quite meaningless to be honest because all he knew how to make was egg, and no matter what we asked for… we got egg anyway.
I miss Baba’s random practical jokes, every member of the family has suffered one way or another with these ... I shall say no more.
I miss the way he used to misplace things, like the time after washing his hands he put the bar of soap in his pocket then spent an hour looking for it.
I miss Baba’s continual lectures at me and my siblings, being a professor he bought his profession into the house, and so we were lectured. Literally.
I miss arguing with Baba about collecting me from my friends’ houses. That man loved public transport and would rather I lived on a bus than him having to get into the car. lol, but he always did come, even though that meant becoming an additional member at J’s household, apparently hers is the closest to our house.
I miss my chemistry tutorial sessions with Baba, he was the best teacher, he never would get angry if I didn’t understand anything, (something I cannot exercise with my siblings) and I think he holds the record for the most outrageous number of times he has explained the concept of “moles” to me.
I miss Baba’s bedtime stories, (yes I am aware of my age) but when we were younger he used to make up the most ridicules bedtime tales, of which ba6a Safeway (The Safeway duck) and her many shopping trips to, yes you guessed it, “Safeway”, the giraffe and the bicycle, (this concept amused us for a very long period of time), and finally the girl named Farra (mouse) whose name got her into trouble with the local cats, were of our favourites stories. We used to laugh so much that we couldn’t sleep afterwards and stay up most of the night laughing into our pillows.

The list is endless I could go on forever, I really could. Just sitting here brainstorming stories of Baba with my sister has bought back so many laughs.

There’s emptiness in my heart which Baba’s laughter used to fill,
There’s sadness in my smile which his words used to revive,
But there’s hollowness in my soul and sorrow in my step,
For a bigger purpose there’s fear in my eyes,
Each tear will tell you a story of a land, of a people forgotten,
For them all,
I feel the greater pain.

These feelings I cannot control, but what I can do is pray for the safety of every Baba and Mama, sister and brother, aunt, uncle and child in Iraq, God is my witness I never forget them in my prayers, I believe its our duty, the least we can do.

Budding love

I writ your name on every flower, on every leaf of every tree,
With hope that one day as they blossomed
Your love would do the same for me,

So while I waited, frustrated remembered I a crucial fact,
Tends to take her time does mother nature
But my tender heart patience lacked,

So pleaded I for days and days, until the days turned into weeks,
Don’t torture me on the hands of time
Plant seeds of love in who my heart seeks,

And true it was, finally as any wish come true can be,
Our love did sprout and with us grew
But yet so fast I did not see,

With my spell cast, our good times past summer spring and autumn too,
And withered we like the fruits of June
In winter’s presence, you were not due.


Beautiful is everything that comes in its time,
As is a word ending a sentence carrying a rhyme,
Matters of the heart, you should not haste,
Or else life’s rich sweetness, bitter will taste.

A few words,

Hanged. Using the same rope he used to fulfill his darkest desires, acts of evil he falsely caramelized with the sweetness of justice. The butcher of Baghdad finally seen taste the agony, the slow fearful walk up to the gallows, feel the rope brush past his face before holding a merciless grip on his fate, just as he held a merciless grip on a people, a people shaken by 35 years of dictatorship, endure a feeling of humiliation he fed to the oppressed, many before him. And once gone, leaving behind the sweet smell of true justice to fill the streets of Iraq.

I thought this day only existed in my dreams, a dream I share with far too many. But how many people can actually say, their dreams have come true? A day awaited by sincere Iraqis for too long a time, came. Came today bringing along with it a wave of pure delight and bitter filled revenge.

Many people say this will only encourage the "Sunni supporters", supporters of his previous regime, to retaliate with brutal force, causing further division and devastation in Iraq, and others say this act will finally return the silent nights to Baghdad. As for me, I'm just glad his corps is left to rot in the trashcan of history, that can only be a good thing for the future of Iraq.

I am not ignorant of the circumstances of these actions, nor do i wallow in the shortsightedness of most. I just choose to enjoy the moment...while it lasts.

Like a Star

Just like a star,
You fly across my sky,
So near but far,
I can’t even say goodbye.

The beat-less song of the night
Resembles that of my heart,
Stay awake and stay loving,
Knowing I’m falling apart.

I see a shine in the heavens
Sparkle between the tears in my eyes,
To make a wish, make a dream
Before the light of the night dies.

Keeping you alive in my fairytale
Wishing your safe return,
Until that time, this tale
Will inside me forever burn.

So look down to the earth
Whisper in a silent voice,
As you pass me by,
I know you’ve no choice.

Destinies wish, is our way
I’ll be forever under the stars,
And in the night’s breeze we’ll sway,
Until our way, is destinies wish.

Just like a star,
You fly across my sky,
So near but far,
I can’t even say goodbye.

Inspired by Z ;)


Lost in the city

Where to go,
When there’s no where to hide?
Every crack in this city,
Has a secret inside.

Streets roaming with rats,
At the newcomer they stare,
It’s a dog eat dog world,
‘coz life is unfair.

Raw darkness, bitter cold,
Struggling through rain,
But when it all comes down,
There’s no gain without pain.

You got to make you own way,
Carve your own name,
At the end of the day,
It’s how you play your own game.

Don’t let them put you down,
Fight till the end,
It’s just the beginning,
Get through the first bend.

Feeling small in the city,
It’s all in the mind,
Soon enough you’ll be king,
Just got to know what to find.

Your path has always been set,
You weren’t born in a maze,
But don’t change to adapt,
Just adapt to this phase.