Ain’t this understanding for you?

Look at my wet boot

Ain’t they look drowsy

Look at my skeleton

Am dusty..

Every drop has touched my flesh

Wait..

You tell me I was not understanding

My ears are in pain

Give me your hands..

Let’s go to a grave yard

Is this your knife?

You nod..

I hand you each part of myself

This is my arm, this is my leg, this is my head

Your eyes are running away from me

Wait..

I stab those arms and pour my blood in cups

Ain’t this enough understanding for you?

You dig a hole in the grave yard, you sleep in it and you say “this is where I was all along, can you hear me?”

I look at my boots, I look at my skull

they’re so very wet

THEY hear you!!

My pants is all mud cause I kneel down to land you a hand

And you say “you’re hands are slippery”

Wait..

I got my hands bruised trying to dry them

Ain’t this understanding?

You make your hands filled with mud and you blind your own eyes

And you say “see am blind”

I look at the sky, still puking water on us

And you say “this is my fate”

Here goes a piece of mycut pullover down your eyes

I wash

And wash..

Are they hurting?

Ain’t this understanding for you?

You say you need space

I take a step backwards and;

So along I pack up my selfs and we leave this rotten, smelly grave yard

My nose stuck in the glass window

Again..

watching you lay in that hole

once more..

I have been here….

I have been here (under) the rain long enough (standing)..

waiting..

And

waiting..

Ain’t this (under)Standing for you?

Advertisements

I’d be still

I’d be still” you utter

But remember our braids were tangled zippers

Moving together like wheels

“The fallen rock has bruised me too” i said

But why is it that you were nailed to the ground

“Was this rock a hammer? ” i ask

Some thing has sewed your lips

But you’d say; I’d be still

I’d be still”

I try to pull you

You stare in despair

“Those are my roots” you say

(I wonder when did you become a tree)

I revere your stillness and question it

“How can you root here in infinity?” i ask

And it suffocates me to be static

Like solitary solider

But you’d keep saying; I’d be still, I’d be still

I am not..

“Is this an axe in your hands” you ask me thrilled

‘I would have carried you on my back’. I thought

And I stood there like a bird knowing that trees won’t fly

Upon those stubborn branches I stand

“And I can never be rooted”

The tree says: set you free, set you free

I’d be still

I’d be still.

Ain’t this understanding

Look at my wet boot

Ain’t they look drowsy

Look at my skeleton

Am dusty..

Every drop has touched my flesh

Wait..

You tell me I was not understanding

My ears are in pain

Give me your hands..

Let’s go to a grave yard

Is this your knife?

You nod..

I hand you each part of myself

This is my arm, this is my leg, this is my head

Your eyes are running away from me

Wait..

I stab those arms and pour my blood in cups

Ain’t this enough understanding for you?

You dig a hole in the grave yard, you sleep in it and you say “this is where I was all along, can you hear me?”

I look at my boots, I look at my skull

they’re so very wet

THEY hear you!!

My pants is all mud cause I kneel down to land you a hand

And you say “you’re hands are slippery”

Wait..

I got my hands bruised trying to dry them

Ain’t this understanding?

You make your hands filled with mud and you blind your own eyes

And you say “see, am blind”

I look at the sky, still puking on us

And you say “this is my fate”

Here goes a piece of my cut pullover down your eyes

I wash

And wash..

Are they hurting?

Ain’t this understanding for you?

Wait..

You say you need space

I take a step back and;

So along I pack up my selfs and we leave this rotten, smelly grave yard

My nose stuck in the glass window

Again..

watching you lay in that hole

once more..

I have been here….

I have been here (under) the rain long enough (standing)..

waiting..

And

waiting..

Ain’t this (under)Standing for you?

I wasn’t always found

I want you to know that I wasn’t always found

That somedays I was so lost That i made the people around me confused

I want you to know that someday’s were so heavy I had to carry nearly killing mountains to move forward

That some days I had to slay my own skin off my bones to add tools for the road

I had to wave my five fingers and naked palms to trees rooted in the grand soil of my soul

I want you to know that I don’t hold my victory all the time, and some days my knees are scratched with scars for simply falling like normal humans

That at moments I carry all my organs on my back, feet, arm, chest and HEART, and I pretend I ain’t no sweating

I want to you to know that I hold the hands of my own monsters, I befriend them, seat them, pretend to smile in their faces, act that my eyes isn’t half of the time touching their claws

And some days I have to stand and take my breath so quickly my chest takes two steps before me

I want to understand that am trying, am trying my very best, even-though it’s not enough sometimes

We can call it ‘a tree thing’

It was one of the days of the week, Lilly never cared to mention which day it was. She never had a favorite day of the week like most people. Lilly thought to herself that each day there’s always something falling off and there’s always something growing. We can call it ‘a tree thing’

It was morning and Lilly decided she was going back in time. Yes it was the right day to travel a long the way back.

She packed her bag and tied her hair and off she went.

On her way to the library, she had allot of day dreaming, hands on the arm of the clock and pushing it with her whole body to the left.

“Stand still, hands in the air!” Said Ahmed, her college in the library.

Lilly laughed when she saw him, he has always had a way along to her heart

“Where are you going on this hour, like a thief in the middle of the night” he asked in a teasing voice

Lilly was hesitant for a moment to tell him, but she couldn’t hide it

“Actually, am going to the past” Lilly said while putting both hands in the air

“Really?” He said while looking in his book, slightly mocking the young girl

Lilly got a little nervous and angry, “I haven’t asked you for your opinion” she said

“My opinion is leave the past as it is, you seriously don’t want to touch it, it might be even worse” he said

“Am not going back to change a thing, just to touch a little few things i’ve missed”

Ahmed smiles, he has always known what i was made of, he knew I haven’t missed a thing and he knew i was just trying to lose myself for wholeness

“ what are your needs Lilly?” He asked with a serious/mocking smile

“My needs are simple. I am complicated.”

She said

“You’re not, you’re just a Lilly in a field of roses, you think to yourself that being a different flower means ugly and complicated, while being a different flower isn’t any less beauty than all the roses around you” he always had the right metaphor for things

“It’s better if you stay, look around you in the present moment, there must be something you’re too blind to see” he continues

“I just want to be normal like others, I want to feel less pain and sew more smiles on my face and have a mind full of doves” Lilly said in a vulnerable voice

And then she continued

“What is a normal person?” She asked

He smiled

“ a sheep that follows the shepherd”

“You were never a sheep, that’s why you are so lost, and never to be found, it’s far beyond who you are, it’s who you love to be; lost”

Lilly was a paradox, even though she really loved to hear about herself, she really hated to hear the truth

“I must go to the clock now” Lilly said

Lilly was now running away from the present moment more then she was running to the past

Ahmed said “wait !! Let me tell you a story”

He continued

“Once upon time, there was a man who was so angry by the order of the months, he thought to himself, why don’t be put August in the middle between January and February”

Lilly crossed her eyebrows while he was speaking

He continued “he thought to himself that by changing the months he can change the seasons” he smiled and rolled his eyes “He was so disappointed when August came, because it was cold” he laughed

Her poker face and internal fire has given him no fear to continue his lame story

“I mean, sometimes we want to touch certain things thinking we have a power over them, while in reality we are just trying to full-fill something eating away in our souls”

“I don’t understand” she said while looking straight to his eyes

“Okay I meant don’t try to touch the irrelevant and expect anything in return, if it’s not even worse than not touching it”

Lilly broke a smile, a sad one

“You don’t have to be a rose Lilly, you’re already a flower, it doesn’t matter if you bloom differently, just bloom” he said

And then Ahmed started walking to the library, stopping for a second and looking at Lilly who hasn’t moved an inch

“You’re not coming?” He asked

“Where?” She asked

“To the library, the clock! Did you forget?” He smiled

“Yeah about that, no, I’d better head back to my garden”

Lilly walked away knowing there were miles between her and the library, and this clock is now and will always be at the other side of the shore. she was glad for the walls and glad for the man who was standing there, she couldn’t look him in the eyes again after she was convinced by his words

She has learned that this day, one of the days of the week; a leaf of the past has fallen for good, and a leaf of the present has yet to be grown

A butterfly that thought it was a moth

grandpa’s hands fell on my shoulders that night “this is a story about a butterfly that thought it was a moth” while pointing to a squared book in his hands

I lay my fingers on the book, looks like it’s a very old worn-out book

He went on

“In a place where there was green big leaves and yummy flowers, flew a breathtaking beautiful butterfly” he pushed the glasses back closer to his eyes

“In a land where there were bees, worms and flys, it was always a massive job for the butterfly to see it’s own colors”

‘I just need a shelter from monsters of sorts’ she used to say

Grandpa raised his voice and spoke in a thriller tone “ but the bees never stopped stinging”

‘The ground is much safer’ she thought

“But the worms moved in waves, at times it was under the mud and other times above the ground”

“At times when butterfly is all alone, she hears the buzzing of the flys carrying the left-overs of humans”

I interrupted grandpa and said ” the butterfly had no friends?”

Grandpa laughed and said with excitement ” she was very very loved”

And then he went quite for a second

“But she thought she was a moth”

“In a land where flower trees danced by the wind and sun kissed the tip of leaves love, butterfly thought the world around her was heavenly”

Grandpa closed the book and he put his head on the bench and closed his eyes..

“She thought the bees were good in ways because they give honey, she thought worms were a life savor because they passthrough oxygen for plants, she thought flys were doing their job to clean out whatever was left”

Every ugly thing around her had an explanation

And despite their ugliness, butterfly thought they were so lucky that they belonged somewhere”

‘Beautiful things belong nowhere, I must be a moth’ she says

“In a land where there are creatures of all kind, bubbling trees, yummy flowers , golden shinning roses, butterfly keeps flying around for belonging”

Why did the butterfly think it was a moth?” I asked

Grandpa opened his eyes and said while using his hands

“Because she couldn’t see her own rainbow wings”

Feet and daffodils

Feet, were the only thing my eyes saw. I couldn’t look around, i couldn’t move my head. The smell of their scents and sweat combined together,shoulders, toes and feet everywhere..

I was in the middle of the city, crowded and lonely

I was holding my basket, pushed around, admiring my daffodils, putting them in different orders.

Nobody is looking! I change their order, I make them look more interesting

Feet, shoulders, ugly scents, a lot of murmuring, several eyes and severe blindness

I keep walking around the city, No body saw my daffodils, nobody cares about my basket.

“She’s more metaphor than human”

I turned around , looking left and right in a dire need to grab this voice, and this mouth and drink those words!

There he was, standing in the crowd, with a bare feet, decent scent and untied lips

“Do you know me sir?” I said quietly

“More than you know yourself” he said confidently

I couldn’t reach him, there were layers of people between us, pushing me and my basket and stepping on my feet..

I tried to reach out to him, and to my quite severe astonishment he was doing the same..

“Who are you without your contradictions” he said

“Sometimes you’re black and you mean it, sometimes you’re white and you’re honest”

He continued

“You are a queen and a host of a garden full of daffodils”

My heart lost a beat, my eyes were wide open

“Do you really know me sir?” I asked honestly this time

“And despite owning a garden of daffodils sometimes you buy a bunch of eggs”

He continued

“Why do you settle for so little ?”

My daffodils fell in a mess in my basket, they were no more in order

“Beautiful daffodils!” He said

I smiled “ you’re the first one to notice them”

He smiled

I look at people’s feet filling the floor, I reached the man and I was now standing in front of a person who can finally see my daffodils..

“Tell me then, why am I here today?” I asked

“Looking for softness” he said

I smiled, he seemed like a smart man, confident, and mad

“Can I have one?” He pointed on my daffodils

“Yeah Ofcourse” I have give him one

“You just need someone to take care of your daffodils”

He said

I knew his words were all right, yet still I knew that I knew him very well, just couldn’t confess it to my being

“Who are you sir?”

He smiled, he knew I was by this moment in complete awareness of who he is, getting out in the city, holding my daffodils, looking for softness

“You know that you can always find it here, where I am”

He said

“You just couldn’t come here anymore, it’s not where you belong

“Why couldn’t you come with me to the land of daffodils?” i asked him

He didn’t answer, all the feet that was around me was pushing me away, and the shoulders have punched miles me away from him

And those scents were gone..

and for the first time of my life, I didn’t have to put my daffodils in order..

And here I am, away from the feet, the murmuring, the shoulders the ugly scents

And him..

Paper ships

It’s not a myth that there are monsters living around us. Nadia always believed that

Sitting on the side bank of the river that had no one but us.

Nadia was obsessed by papers and crayons, she has always been a kinesthetic person.

“I love paper ships” she says

I was not watching though, In fact I did so many paper ships with her, but I didn’t utter a word.

She smiles pretending she doesn’t hear my inner voice. her eyes were brown, the sun was hitting through them, leaving them much crystal brown at this moment, there was more soul in her eyes than there was any sight.

“In silence you’re still poetic you know” she says

I smile back quite faster than a dart that she never attempts to catch

Nadia knew what I was made of

Crayons everywhere, and one color from each

She seemed to enjoy the view and shocked with what I had to say suddenly..

“I snapped all of the crayons in half so you could colour too”

Nadia knew I loved sharing everything, even if sometimes I pretend am so much fond by being alone, she knew I always wished to have her peace of mind, the one very precious thing I never had..

Nadia said I should write the names of all the things I want to let go on every paper ship

I look at the river, flowing viciously.. waiting for no one, unstoppable.. making no apologies for streaming endlessly

It was nature that ought to cope around it..

Nadia knew it took me a massive violence to look that gentle. She knew I had been playing symphonies and pouring medicines into my being

This beauty, the sun, the fresh air and the darting river, I think it’s comfortable in a terrible way..

Nadia says it’s not a myth that there are monsters living around us, some of them change us into the monsters they are, others change us into the monsters we are…

In all forms some live an internal immortality fighting the monsters within…

Others die in battles giving up to the monsters inside of them

as for me, I wrote their names on paper ships, I’ll let them go..

I carry all those paper ships after I wrote the names, it was shocking how heavy they were in my heart and how light they were in my naked palms..

Nadia holds my hand, she squeezes it.. I wasn’t scared, I think people get scared because they think with their hearts; as for me I haven’t given my being any thought..

I put each ship and watch it flout on the surface of the water, leaving us behind, leaving us weightless, getting smaller in my eyes and smaller in my heart.. one after the other they go, behind each other they disappear…

most of my life I’ve been trying to find the right words, as for now; am trying to find the right silences

Nadia knew I was empty of monsters at this moment, she knew I was scared to death any of them would come back into my chest..

Nadia gave me half a hug, and we walked away..

“I don’t want to lose my way again, I didn’t like it there..”

I broke the silence

Deep deep wells

I look at my blue hand, and then I rub them together until they become a little red again. I hold the glass basket that stood right next to me on the bench. Swinging my legs back and force.

There lied the water under my feet, the water was silver blue, nippy and deep

The morning suddenly broke in, the weather was getting colder.

“I think it would be lovely to hold your hand now and go for a walk to look at the lights” said a voice from beneath me but I didn’t bother

I held the goods in my glass basket, looked at each piece very closely with my eyes, nearly blinded with my heart.

Splash! Goes one of them in the water, that must be an accident… splash goes another one.

“That time it was on purpose” said the same voice

I close my eyes. My cheeks and nose were making love with the weather.

My toes are blue and naked, and even though I didn’t see them, I knew they were wounded and bleeding

“Wildflowers are growing from her cuts” the voice keeps murmuring

The process keeps going, holding one of my trophies and throwing it in the deep well

“You can never get them back” the voice warns me

I smile, a long deep smile… this basket has weigh me so much along the journey I almost believed it was me who was actually heavy

Do you really think am going to regret letting it all go?

One of them hits my wounded feet while being dropped, I feel the pain this time,but I soak my tears inside

I smile again..

I have been arranging my feathers for a flight

I look closely at the trees, watching the leaves turn into birds. The water still and steady

I have always been someone who sees with more than my eyes.

The basket is empty now!

All the weight that was keeping me down is finally gone

I crumble my myself until feet was under my palms.

The sun was finally rising, I look at the light coming out of the horizon, my eyes closed and bothered

And I was cut, exhausted, tired, free and happy

I accidentally see myself in the reflection of the water, so I drop my basket and it breaks into million pieces.

I have not seen myself for long, I forgotten what I have become

“there’s a forrest in your chest my dear”

The voice keeps saying

“There’s a heaven in your heart”

My wings stretch, my legs are above the surface of the water…my finger touches the water, it ain’t cold anymore!

I fly….

I rise up like a phenix, i rise from my own ashes swimming towards the horizon

“I was a lost being, looking for you elsewhere”

I keep murmuring

“I think it would be lovely to hold your hand now and go for a walk to look at the lights” I told myself again

Roses on my surface and Rainbow in my mouth

I am an exposed nerve. a nerve’s job is to feel. I feel everything. If a drop of water falls in the ocean, I can still manage a plus in the weight. I feel before feelings hit me like darts and when they do, I know how to feel a feeling that I have already felt.
I crumble sometimes. I try to draw roses on my surface and color my mouth rainbows. But most of the time my mouth has the wrong font for my words. Most of the time people see the wrong colors.
I put a cup under the wound, drops falling one after the other, as if like a broken sink. I bleed in way where there is no blood. Just a leak of poison running in my veins.
“Enough you’re making a loud noise” said Safeya while reading a book and she didn’t even look at me
I look at her in silence, I didn’t utter a word nor did I even move

“I want to read in silence” she said again

Today she decided we could have a quite day at the beach. i didn’t mind though
I look at the skies and I close my eyes, my heart was racing because from the inside I was always chasing myself. I became intolerable to my own self. At times I cannot befriend my own soul, my arms are not so opened for my own being.
And it’s just another magical day to overdose on whys!!

Safeya shuts the book in a loud noise and looks at me. I get frightened for a second and I look her in the eyes. She looked frustrated by me and sharp right into my eyes.

” stand up please” she said in a bossy way while standing up

But I didn’t stand I kept looking at her

“Okay then stay here as you like, Ill have a walk on the beach” and she left

My head was loud today, And my lips were out of gas. I had no words to share. I close my eyes again and I fall asleep.

I was poked in my arm several times before I realized it was Safeya sitting next to me with a huge smile on her face. I open my eyes slowly, and then I smile.

She took my hands, both of them. In one of them she placed a huge big shell that has wholes and pointy edges. And in the other hand she put several small stones, one of them was purple. The other one was orange in white, another was blue and the last one was soft and red. They where so beautiful I kept in focus with this hand more.
“Look at the left hand first” she said while smiling
So I looked at the big stone that has pointy edges

“This is how you see yourself” My eyes got wide and desperate

“You see your self as one huge ugly thing from the inside, you see all the bad things, all your wholes and all your pointy edges”

And then she held my right hand and smiled a sweet tender smile

“And this is how I see you”

She continued

“Allot of different beautiful things, each one of them is unique in it’s own way”
I look at the stones, different colors, each one of them is beautiful in a way.
And the she continues
” and they are all you”

they say healers are givers, they say healers are advisors, but I say not.
I say healers are warriors, they save you from your own self. Once they squeeze the sponge, only pure water pours.

But I felt it, the colors in the stones are the colors I color my surface every minute, rainbows on my mouth are not a myth. I must stop cutting my own self, cause I feel it. I am an exposed nerve. and a nerves job is to feel. I feel everything.