Thursday, November 07, 2013

Dancing my pain away

I have this immense urge to dance till the point where my legs can go on no more, and yet, i corse them to carry the weight in my heart and push them further. Perhaps it's the same dance of the whirling dervishes, but, for them it is to reach a higher level of nirvana through their whirling. Me, I need to whirl myself out of the swamp. I need double the effort and the energy..

Perhaps that moment of physical exhaustion takes the whole awareness of pain into a tangible more manageable one, a controlled environment for the senses.

What baffles me is how tangible it is in the pit of the abdomen, a tightness that actually can relatively be relaxed by pain killers, as that in itself numbs other senses that trigger the mind and subsequently tight intangible knot.

I gravitate here and there when I feel this way. What I have experienced and felt is wonderful as it means I can still feel. As well, it is a blessing to have such a little issue bring me so much pain, it means that there are no other major pains and concerns. I am safe and well as are my loved ones, family and friends.

So then what? I don't know I have revived doubts which are absolutely inconvenient.

The other day in between tears and pasted smiles, I wished there was a direct phone to call God. I then kicked myself and reminded myself that this direct line is called prayer. But I still want to ask him so many questions!! The biggest ones are "What shall I do?" and "How should I be?" and get a simple direct mortal answer..

So many times I reach a point where I am mentally too tired I just don't want to think anymore. It is at those times where I (guiltily and retract it soon enough) envy stupid or dumb people, not in a degrading manner, but that they just know within a limited capacity and perhaps with the false perception that they have less aches due to that.


مجبور أنا
بطاعتك وعصيانك
مجبور انا
بغيبتك ونسيانك
،من قلت قلبي
تحيا بك
مجبور أنا
أعشق أيامك

وين بسمتك
تنشر في ليالي ضي
وين همستك
قلبي بعدها حي
وين لمستك
طالت ولا مرت على كفي دفا
عييت ولا جت من برد الشتا
غابت عن الجفن رفة وفا
مسافر ولا دل الطريق
وين كلمتك
باكر بيجمعنا بريق
شمس اللقا

لا تنتظر 
باكر دهر 
واليوم ما غاب القمر
لا تنتظر 
ما عاد يكفيني عمر
أنا نهايتي
لك لهفتي
واوراق الخريف
باكر دهر
والليل احلامه بريق
أو لحظة أمل
لا تنتظر
انا فيك انهيت حكايتي
وما لها بقايا قصتي
غير اني من يومها
مجبور فيك

ولا شفت غيرك قدر

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Loud and clear

I hear ya
loud and clear
can't take the heat
I hear ya
loud and clear
jumped from the frying pan
to land in the fire
you didn't know
that there lays a dark desire?
loud and clear
a fevered pitch
of a bird like screech
loud and clear


Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Cherry red aches and chocolate smudged fingers for valentines

I sat by my espresso

& poured the pain

On your cream couch,

My tears stung your eyes,

You controlled your sighs,

And let me breath,

My discoveries

Did I stain your heart

With cherry red aches,

Of love lost

And family breaks,

Or smudge chocolate fingers

With the bitter sweetness of life?

Did I tie the strings

Of the tassels too tight

Or cut fingers

That stubbed my heart

With each breath of grey,

To say,

I'll be there my friend

As we listened to the king,

With his soul sing,

The few regrets

Or false imaginings,

And watch the doe

Skip across a flickering screen

Of a mute TV

Let us then stay,

As we may,

Comrades of pain,

With a cherry red stain

Of a heartache

And let us smudge chocolate

On cream couches, our way

My brother,

My friend,

When will this end

And we’ll live the tale

That was in letters sent

From memories of yore

And dreams of good intent

My brother my bother

My friend my end

Post it

And let the memories spend

Its moments of glory

In gardens where the sun shines

Happiness of grandfathers’ stories

Where one day I may

Hold the water in the sky

As I spray

The roses and strawberries

That my uncle had drawn for me

With his violin strings


Lest it brings

Tears of what may never be

The peace we never knew

Through history

Let us sleep,

Perhaps one day

If I may,

Invite you for tea

Where the four roads meet

Or at the riverside

Where the fish can’t hide

And palm trees sway

To the breeze of yesterday

As whispers breath

And Baghdad sings

In heavens’ wings


Sunday, January 17, 2010

How to Cut a Pomegranate by Imtiaz Dharker

'Never,' said my father,
'Never cut a pomegranate
through the heart. It will weep blood.
Treat it delicately, with respect.

Just slit the upper skin across four quarters.
This is a magic fruit,
so when you split it open, be prepared
for the jewels of the world to tumble out,
more precious than garnets,
more lustrous than rubies,
lit as if from inside.
Each jewel contains a living seed.
Separate one crystal.
Hold it up to catch the light.
Inside is a whole universe.
No common jewel can give you this.’

Afterwards, I tried to make necklaces
of pomegranate seeds.
The juice spurted out, bright crimson,
and stained my fingers, then my mouth.

I didn't mind. The juice tasted of gardens
I had never seen, voluptuous
with myrtle, lemon, jasmine,
and alive with parrot's wings.

The pomegranate reminded me
that somewhere I had another home.

Saturday, December 05, 2009

حين تفكر في قتلي

حين تفكر في قتلي
ترفق وإطعني بلطف
حتى ارى اللذة ترتسم
على وجهك لحظة مماتي
ولتصلي علي لحظة سكون أنفاسي
حين ترتشفها وتنكسر
بين راحتيك أهدابي
فراشات مثل روحي تحتضر

ولتنتظر... برود أناملي
تلك التي لطالما راقصتها
في غياهب السمر
قف للدهر
كما مرت علي سنون وعمر
ورياح تتطاير من وراءها
حصاد القمر

ألم تعلم حينما قررت لمس الآله
بأن قلبها لإمرأة
بهمسة ينفطر
وحين وضعت كفك على خدها
لتسرق الإبتسامة من وجهها
كم دمعة ستنهمر

قف وانتظر
من أجلك أرخيت لثامي
وأسدلت على النهار ستاري
وخضبت بعد موتي أقدامي
احتفالإً بالنصر

والآن قررت بأنك
نبوخذ نظر ؟
وغزواتك بدوني
لن تكتمل؟
حين تنتهي من نحرالدجى
قف وصلي
على آلهة بين يديك تحتضر

Wednesday, December 02, 2009

Here’s my letter to you today

The ones before I’d never written or typed on a sheet, I have, though, drilled the words through my head in memories of dreams. Every night I dread coming home and going to bed, the vortex that envelopes my being is dreadful, truly, when I’m out, I occupy myself to the fullest. Not a moment passes when my mind is not busy, could be twitter, or friends or a book or a café.

I hate being alone in my room and bed because inadvertently there’s no more energy to be spent and exhausted at five in the morning I pray that I drop off into a dreamless continuous sleep.

That hasn’t happened. What does happen is that the moment my head hits the pillow all the thoughts that are dormant amongst the feathers and fibers seep through my hair follicles and squirm into my mind, they creep slowly at first and soon they gain momentum until I lose consciousness into that pause that’s called sleep.

I wake and it’s only been an hour or two, I sleep and wake again, I read the latest news on twitter and sleep. Restless they sense my consciousness and burst into life! I close my eyes against their invasion but they come through every other orifice that affects my being they won’t leave me alone.

You appear, from nowhere, in a restaurant, a café, your car. You appear by my side, facing me, smiling. Your side grin, your eyebrows lift in emphasis, the words of an old Iraqi song smiles through your lips. And that’s about when the tears start to well. And by some miracle, even then I’m not allowed the pleasure of weeping. You distract me and everyone else distracts me oo. They won’t leave me alone these thoughts of you.

I need to go now to shower and get dressed... The shower is another alone region. The water droplets drum their way as other thoughts of you become them. You are now touching my hair and your hand on my face and your smile as if to say that we will always be together in the same place.

And the water pours not washing anything except my hair and body. Rivulets form and I remember your hand. In mine. And your lips kissing them, kissing my hand. Your face in my palm. “it’s not that you’re attractive, but oh my heart grew active, when you, came .. into… view.. I’ve got a crush on you… sweety pie..” Ella sing my woes, sing my smiles sing my soul. “Embrace me.. my sweet embraceable you..” Frankie, you’re friends.. do something.. NO! not “Domani.. “ it is your way and his way… it is no longer my way.. but perhaps eventually, it is the way that I have known all along. “I want a little sugar in bowl, I want a little sweetness down in my soul”

You wrote me a letter, and another one too.. I haven’t received the second one.. the thing is I want that letter. It was written for me, by me through you but for me therefore, it’s rightfully mine! Please give me my letter even if all that in it is lies. How naked can I be? More naked than under the shower, more naked than in the darkness of my soul, more naked than when one is dead.

Perhaps this is not a letter after all. I would never write you as I write this! This! What is this except a form of conversation with my mind? Sure you won’t read it! You won’t remember the address… this! A schizophrenia of thoughts jumbled to form in-coherent emotions in word format. This! How sad.

“it’s not that you’re attractive but oh my heart grew active..” Yes I know, but that exactly what got me the regular joe.

Gotta go juss joe! Remember? Remember joe? Remember what you said fifteen years ago in Montreal?