Monday, February 23, 2009

Where do we draw the line?

Taking into account the thoughts and experiences of those around us including family and friends is absolutely vital at any stage in ones life. Sometimes we may become so emotionally involved in what it is we’ve endeavoured in, it becomes difficult to take a step back and get a good look at the bigger picture, often missing things that would otherwise literally hit us in the face. This is where hearing, comprehending, understanding and implementing come into play. I would even go a step further in suggesting that even the views of those around us, our societies and communities should be taken into account in the thought and decision making process. Before everyone jumps at me, understand that I don’t mean we should live our lives by rules set out by others, I am probably the last person who would see it that way.

I’ve lived a large proportion of my life abiding by what others “see fit” due to circumstances beyond my control. It was one trip to Syria in 2007 which I believe was the beginning to my true venture into adulthood; my eyes were opened to an array of delightfully pleasant as well as painful droplets of reality. I realised that the world was not as simple as I had assumed and not everyone I met during the course of my life looked at me with the same sincere intensions as I did them. In a pivotal moment that was to shape the women I was to become (slight exaggeration) I came to the conclusion that people are so preoccupied with their own lives that they really don’t have the time to probe into mine, so why should I care about what they think at all?

Although I’ve swerved slightly off topic I return to my previous point, reiterating that I cannot but feel its necessary to stay true to ones traditions and cultures, even though society today has severely dented and redefined the two. This anyway was not the point of my writing today. What I wanted to say is that I feel it’s important, as I presume many of you will agree, to listen to those who truly have our best interests at heart. But what happens when what they're telling us contradicts what we believe in? I’m in a dilemma, should I listen to what everyone around me seems to be seeing, but I somehow have been blinded towards, or do I continue, where do I draw the line? I don’t want to be kicking myself in X months or years down the line, knowing I made all the wrong choices, but then again I don’t want to look back and think but what if I had done things differently?

I think the best thing to do is to live life one day at a time, after all what’s meant to happen will happen. I go to bed every night and pray for those I love then when it comes to me, I leave my fate in the hands of God. I mean it from the deepest pinnacle of my heart when I ask God to help me lead my life in a way that he alone see’s fit. I avoid asking for things or for the lack thereof in fear of their consequences because I know in God alone I can trust.

Sitting squashed at one end of the sofa in an awkwardly comfortable position, in my favourite Winne the Pooh pyjamas and warm socks holding a glass of cool apple juice and staring at my uncompleted assignment at 1.30am in the morning, I doubt I could feel more content. I don’t think I care as much anymore, and in doing so, I’m ready to face tomorrow.

Sunday, December 14, 2008

The Night Musician

Broken strings, broken wings, broken everything.

As I fix my gaze up to the sky,
The sound of silence fills my ears,
And the darkness that surrounds me says

It speaks of your unspoken words.

I cannot play on broken strings,
Neither puppets’ dance, nor my heart in endless melody engage.
As the musician enters into his trance,
Conjuring up the night song, as enchanting as the raw rose, it stings.

I cannot play on broken strings,
Angels don’t fly on broken wings,
But the whisper of the night, it sings

An everlasting chant of ecstasy.

You will bring,
Then come, and share,
And fix my broken everything.

Sunday, October 05, 2008

Just for fun..

This poem is for all those people who have made me feel ARGH! at one point in our friendship or another. Usually its those closest to know who you are! ;) and sometimes it's just random people we have to face during the course of the day. Having said that I know I probably make you feel ARGH! sometimes too :)


You make me want to pull my hair,
Grit my teeth and punch the air,
Laugh out loud with utter rage,
Rip up my books page by page,
Give up on all humanity,
Pray for early mortality,
Throw away my phone, a mile,
Keep the therapist on speed dial,
Slam shut the laptop everyday,
You make me speechless...what can I say?

You make me want to overdose!
You make me want to break the law!
You make me want to count to ten!
You make me want to call the Doc!
You make me want to pull out my teeth!
You make me want to over-eat!
You make me want to break the harmony..
That makes up our society!

I sometimes hate who I am, when I'm with you,
After all that you have put me through,
Im not entierly surprised,
Infact, I cant believe that I survived!

(Okay...okay it is abit over lol...You know I love you all really!! Dont deny you were thinking of at least one person while reading?!)

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

(Thanks to M, for the introduction, and "tweaking" of the poem)

The sands of time trickle through my fingers despite my most arduous efforts and ambitious attempts at slowing them down and remaining in a state of stillness. By the time you finish reading this sentence, you have forever lost a few seconds of your time - they are never to be lived again.

I cannot but feel a little miserable about this and, I am sure, many out there share my slightly over-romantic sentiments.

Helpless, I continue to live with the knowledge that I am no longer who I was a moment ago. I will always be somewhere different to where I was before I blinked. Nevertheless, I take solace in the vast, unadulterated universe that I can travel to anytime I like by simply delving deep into my own thoughts. There, I find a depressing amount of unsigned letters, unfinished poems and ultimately an incomplete life. But who is to say I want to finish it? If I had the power, I would erase a line or two in hope of re-living a scene in the life that is unquestionably mine!

Unfortunately, a hefty weight labelled 'physics and biology' brings me crashing down to earth. It is then that I decide to succumb to the biggest universal truth, and keep afloat amidst the torrent of life.

A monologue of memories.

I wish i was seventeen again,
Oh how I wish i was seventeen.
The days seemed much brighter then,
And the grass was forever green.

I wish i could return again,
To the days the world was mine.
Fearless, I would stroll through rain,
Joy through my spirit would shine.

I wish you would take me back,
To when I walked with a certain air.
Uncertainty my heart did lack,
From this torture it was bare.

So tell me now, what has become,
Of the girl I used to be?
I want her to come back again,
To live inside of me.

I know the years, they have been few,
But when I reminisce,
One hundred years, they have been due,
Waiting for love’s true kiss.

I wish i was seventeen again,
O how I wish I was seventeen.

Thursday, July 10, 2008

“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.

Sunday, April 29, 2007

“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

Monday, April 23, 2007


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.