Saddest Poem

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

~Pablo Neruda

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The Powers That Be

Will you allow me to be stronger

To take a leap and become better

To hope for love and dream for more

To jump for joy

And smile.

Keep smiling.

Smiling.

Smiling.

Painless Dreams

Painless dreams
Soft release
Sleepy clouds
Heavy with pregnant silences

Webs Of Disdain

The keening of her broken heart pierces his soul and infects his mind.
Seeping, creeping; Black perfumed poison.
Bejewelled eight-legged widows,
Chattering in dismay.

Blood, Sweat And Tears

Barbie Doll Museum at Bloomingdale's

We are born with a clean slate.

But within minutes, our families lay heaps and heaps of societal responsibility on our heads.

I am an angry Muslim girl.

Not because I am angry at God.

But because I am angry at society.

From the day a mum buys her daughter a Barbie doll.

Or the day a little girl’s brother laughs at her for trying to play football with his friends…

Messages are being downloaded direct into her hardware.

Like a little ticking virus bomb.

Waiting for the right time to explode.

Infecting the system. Drive by drive.

‘You are a girl. You must behave a certain way.’

We mostly don’t realize this.

How controlled we are.

How bloody brainwashed we are.

How caged we are.

………….Or maybe its just me……..

Society ingrains in us that we have to follow a specific mould.

Any deviation from that and we are relegated pariahs. Outcasts. Treated badly to set an example…so that none of the others follow your deviant, devilish ways.

It’s human nature. The ‘Pack mentality’.

Blending in keeps you alive. Sticking out, well it singles you out to predators, and you endanger the whole community.

Except we do not live in a jungle any more.

Doesn’t matter which society you think about..each has its own unwritten rules and regulations. A code of conduct written in blood, sweat and tears.

How many of us follow these rules without even thinking twice………..?

……………I know I am being a bit vague, forgive me.

I am trying to decide what path my life will take.

And I feel bound by the shackles of what society expects me to do.

What’s worse, is that these shackles are not even real.

I can break them any time I want.

I can go off to Rio, and become a dancer if I want. (For example)

But the little seeds of propaganda planted in my brain from day 1…keep holding me back.

Nobody is TELLING me I can’t do what I want.

But my own conscience is holding me back.

What will society think?

What will my family think?

What will they all saaaay?

Brave are the souls who decide to take the path less travelled.

They throw caution to the wind. And watch it burn.

These, these are the founders of tomorrow.

Rule breakers.

Trend setters.

Labelled crazy, loco!

But eventually, lauded as the inventors, trend setters, and physicists of tomorrow!

I do not aspire to be the next Einstein or Van Gogh.

Only to live my dreams to the fullest.

Without being encumbered by the collective gasp of societal disapproval.

I CHOOSE to travel.

I CHOOSE to not be married (right now)

I CHOOSE to work.

I CHOOSE to be educated.

I CHOOSE to be different.

I CHOOSE a partner you do not expect me to.

I CHOOSE to be an Independent Muslim Woman.

I CHOOSE to throw caution to the wind.

Because it is my prerogative.

 

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I–
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

The Road Less Travelled, by Robert Frost

Like A Fish Out Of Water

Restlessness gnaws at the tendrils of my consciousness.
Pulling me askew.
I trip along.
A kaleidoscope of jumbled, hazy, half eaten dreams.
Why am I struggling to breathe?
I know I don’t belong here.
Squirming, slipping, gasping.
Choking.
Searing red pain.
Why does this feel so wrong?
My smile is plastic.
My heart, moulded in stone.
Anxiety dips mottled, gnarled fingers in my mind.
Swirling my thoughts as a witch her cauldron.
Helplessness holds me hostage.
With bonds of brimstone and steel.
Frozen.
Pathetic.
Weak.
Gasping for release.
Allah, take my hand…

Hurting

I’m tired.

Because my life is hurting.

I’m hurting.

Because my heart is bleeding.

Gushing, pouring, seeping, streaming.

Congealing.

Pulses of warm, fragrant, liquid life.

My heart is emptied.

Dance With Me

The way you make me feel…

It’s counterproductive.

To work…and like, other things.

I can’t help but smile knowingly.

I can’t help but daydream.

My heart sings.

My soul dances.

My body hummmms.

Come on,

Dance with me.

Before You

Before you, I was shades of grey

I didn’t know the warmth of the sun’s caress on a summers day

Before you, a plum was just a plum

A song, just a song.

Colours were dull.

And music was monotone.

Before you, I didn’t know love

I didn’t know pain

I didn’t know longing.

Before you, I didn’t even know my hearts name.

I was numb

I was cold

A shadow, walking amongst the living

Before you, before you…

I was black and blue.

And love was just a feeling.

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