الفتور

 

صار قلبي كقطعة من الجليد 

بارد و جامد و صلب كالحديد 

ذات يوم انكسر 

و لم يعد إلى طبيعته؛

اصبح شيئا جديد 

لا يفرح و لا يحزن 

مسح المشاعر لانه لا يريد 

أن ينكسر و يتحطم مرة أخرى; 

ذاك الألم كان شديد

ربما يأتي يوم و ينصهر 

و يفرح و يحزن و يطلب المزيد

و لكن علم الغيب عند الله؛ 

خالق الكون ،الجبار المجيد .

Mr.Perfect

He is tall. I am not just calling him that due to my lack of height, which makes me call anyone with an average height "tall," but because he really is tall. To be precise, he's a foot and a few inches taller than me. When I look up to admire his flawless complexion, I can't help but be astonished by his manly beard, which he never shaves- he only trims it! It perfectly suits his face. His eyes aren't one bold color, but many mixed together rendering a light hue I've never seen before. They sparkle. His eyes don't tell lies, and that's why they're so special to me. His smile is what I like to call my "melting point," because I feel myself changing into another state when his perfect set of teeth peak out. Then, I think about the possibility of his dentist being a beautiful female, and I get enviously jealous! I melt, and at other times, I sublime! 

He doesn't know about my existence; or maybe he does, but that doesn't matter to me. All that matters in my bubbled up world,which he knows just how to puncture, is that I know of his. 

He is smart: all the kinds of intelligence I have come to know is found in his brain. He is book-smart! I've seen him hold many books in his masculine 

 hands. I managed to read some of their titles. If I got a hold of one of those books he was intriguingly reading, I would free my time to read them too so we can have something in common. He is socially smart too! If he wasn't, why would all those people huddle around him all the time to hear what he had to utter? Moreover, humor is a manifestation of intelligence; and he possesses the sense of humor I liked best. That's what I ended up knowing after utilizing my online-stalking skills....

From the looks of it, he's pious! Oh, how much I love piety! He's not a stuck-up, conceited person due to his utmost devotion to his lord; he is humble as a consequence. I've heard him telling a colleague about how obeying Allah will always have you reaping rewards you forgot you even sowed! 

He has a hoarse voice, but I like it! If I heard it, that meant he was around. 

I am infatuated with him. I know it! I just don't see a reason for denying it. There's a magical feeling about infatuation. I am also obsessed with him. I know I am, so I try to control my obsession before I end up with a restraining order. Maybe it's lust or maybe it's true love! But I don't care what people before me have called it or what I'm about to call it, because a name on "this thing" I got hovering over me wherever I go is not going to change a thing. 

Furthermore, I don't try to get his attention because I know if he's written for me, he'll be mine without me begging for it-one way or another! 

I pray to Allah for him. And I talk to our creator about him. That's the only act I'm capable of doing that makes my impatient soul calm. 

-Calmness; I can't bear it when he speaks so coherently in his appealing accent! I can't help but eavesdrop because all I want is to know him! 

When I'm alone, I sing love songs that magically describe all the feelings surging within my fragile heart! 

I don't question any of "this", I just let it happen. That's what I learnt. It will bring pain as much as it brings happiness! But, that's perfectly fine with me. I'm not scared. I am ready for whatever "this" might bring. 

At least that's what I told myself before that day.  

That day was full of sunshine. It was beautiful. It was a day for beginnings. I was walking and that familiar hoarse voice was calling out my name. I scrutinized myself for letting myself get carried away with "this thing" that I started hallucinating scenarios that just couldn't be real. But it was real! That was my reality,then. He was really saying my name! I turned around and he was holding my ID card! "This belongs to you?" was his innocent question. "Yeah, thanks!"was my answer. And I prayed and prayed with a huge smile that this was the commencement of what I wanted "this thing" to be! 

.....

A Letter

Dear Child, 

       I have already picked out some names I'd ,potentially, like to call you, but time will tell if the love I have for those names will remain or not. Or, whether your father is going to approve of them or not. Maybe he has already set up a list of his favorite names he considers as appropriate potential calls for his offspring. Speaking of names, I don't even know of his! Hence, I'm currently mad at him!

You're going to be me in an alternative reality; the "me" I never thought would exist coupled with the "me" I've always wanted to! 

I'm writing this to you, my dear while not knowing how you're going to look or how many of you will be running around the house someday. Maybe you'll be a set of twins or triplets. Or each of you will arrive at a special interval! 

Anyhow, as your future mother, this letter will incorporate everything I want to tell you. 

Firstly, I hope I'll be there with tears of joy rolling down my cheeks as I hear your first cry. Then, you'll do a whole lot of crying and I'll tolerate it because it's yours. If Allah wills, I'll squeal with utter enchantment when you start crawling! And I'll clap at your first steps. I will admire your face as I notice each new tooth making itself prominent! Even before you start speaking, I will speak to you about all sorts of topics. I'll carry you and put you to sleep with a lullaby of my own composition. 

The years will go by just like that. You will grow up. If I am still there to perceive your upbringing, I'll thank and praise our lord because you are a blessing. 

You will have many first days. I'll document them! Your first days of school, college, and job! I'll give my parental guidance without your solicitation. As long as I'm there, I'll advice you on what to wear, say, and how to act. However,I'll try to give you your freedom and not be clingy. I'll pray for you; I already do. 

I don't know what Allah has written for you. Nonetheless, if you become successful and popular, be humble because arrogance and being conceited will do more harm than they'll ever do good- in this life and the eternal one. Remember Allah always, and He will remember you: a promise He made! If you don't get the luxury of financial stability, the only thing I want you begging for is a job to earn a living! Do your most begging to Allah, for humans are not to be begged! As a final point, strive for your success in this life, but do so too for your other one. 

Live. Love. Laugh. Learn. 

I will love you regardless. Pray for me whenever you can because I need your prayers as much as you need mine. And pray for your father and loved ones as well- it's the best gift you'll be capable of offering. 

As a final point, I hope I'll be good to you and you to me and this world.  

                        Sincerely, 

                        YOUR MOM     

                          

 

Fairytales

I wonder: why is it that when we were little girls, they'd read us fairy tales with one common theme? That common theme being a girl with an undeniable tragic life only gets to experience happiness when the Prince Charming comes to rescue. Why did he have to be a prince who's charming? Why couldn't just one fairy tale narrate a love story of a girl being saved by doctor or a lawyer. Wait, why is the female always the victim? Why does her savior must always be a man?

I don't want to sound like an irrational feminist, but lets be a little realistic for the sake of growing up young ladies who shouldn't aspire to an imaginary Prince Charming who's most likely not going to show up with his white horse. 

First things first, there's no denying that a young woman will have hovering thoughts about how is the love of her life going to look like and whether his looks truly resemble his inner-self or not! However, that shouldn't be the one and most prominent thought. There should be other compartments of a young lady's brain filled with things that only cling to her. 

Who are you? What do you want to be? Who do you want to be? What's your interests? What makes you happy? Really, what makes you smile, laugh, and rejoice? 

I'm sure every woman has her priorities, but the challenge lies in whether she can outflank society's definition of a woman's priorities to achieve her desired destiny.

I don't want to sound like those people who have lost all hope at living a love story, because I'm not one of those people and I don't plan on being one no matter what I go through. My thought being: a love story should be a part of your story. Not the end or beginning of it. Not a single person in this world is going to come and change your life drastically for better or worse, only you can do that to yourself. So learn about yourself,love yourself, and treat your self right and with respect. Only then, will Allah allow there to be people in your life who will add sprinkles to your already glazed donut. Find happiness through faith, prayer, and hard work. Be a little intuitional. Dare to daydream. Dare to imagine and make up illusions. But, don't you dare forget about reality! 

Drained

I feel exhausted 

Totally worn out. 

Like a paper that has been scribbled about 

Erased then written over then erased again 

What am I doing?Where have I been? 

I've been wandering all over:

Finding out about life and its entities  

Found my myself already lost 

Only in the beginning of my twenties 

I ask questions 

And answers, I do get! 

Then, I feel that light bulb spontaneously  lit

I noticed that I've changed, yet I'm still the same old me 

I'm like a little child restricted from their favorite candy! 

Some days go by 

And others, oh, they drag 

Sometimes I race to the finish line 

And usually I lag 

Behind because I'm just so done 

And I don't see what's the point; where's the pleasure? How is this fun? 

Oh, but I pray and pray to my lord 

To Him, I've poured 

My heart out 

And in Him, I don't have the slightest doubt. 

So I feel good again. 

When I realize what I'm capable of doing, and how I got to where I am 

from where I've been :) 

💞 مع الله 💞

كم أحب كل ثانية أمضيها في عبادة خالقي. و كم أحقد على نفسي عندما تراودني زينة الحياة الدنيا. الحديث مع الله لا يمثله شئ و وصفه ربما يوحي بالمبالغة! و لكن يجب أن أعترف: عندما ادعوا رب و أشكو بثي، و حزني، و جميع خواطري، كل هم و أرق يزول. يتبعثر و يفنى حينها! ها أنا أتحدث مع مالك الكون. أشكو للمجيب الذي استوى على العرش. أدعو إلى الرحيم. أدعو إلى مقلب القلوب. أتمنى, و لا أخاف من الاحتمال أنني ربما لم أُعبر بصواب ما هو الذي يجري و يخوض بداخلي لأنني أعلم أنه يعلم، و سيحقق الخير فيما طلبت. أدعوا و الراحة تهمني. أدعوا و أشعر بالتمسك بقوة خارقة. لا أحد يمكنه كسري و تدبير في أمرٍ ضدي لأني أعلم أن لا طالما ها أنا ادعوا، فسبحانه يدبر امري و أنا بأعينه و هو يحميني. الجبار دائماً يجبر بخاطري. ابتسم كل يوم لانه معي. باق و لن يزول حتى و إن ِزلتُ عن هذا العالم الشنيع. و ادعوا أن يرزقني بالنظر إلى وجهه الكريم. أدعو أن يرحمني برحمته التي وسعت كل شئ. أدعو أن لا يحرمني من جنة عرضها كعرض السموات و الأرض. 

Craziness

One day it will happen to you just like it had happened to every man before you-you will fall into a ditch known as love. You'll see her and everyone and everything around you at that moment will be an utter blur. Your friends are teasing you! But you don't mind this time as your mind is captivated by her flawlessness, and so you take one more glance at her and she innocently catches you and you lower your gaze and smile at the ground. That day, you'll indulge in your everyday idiosyncrasies as usual but there's something special about that day that makes what t was a mundane routine full of brightness. And maybe that brightness is the reason why you start to perceive things with a depth you weren't accustomed to. You brush it off for a few hours, days, or maybe months! 

Somehow, Allah does it to you again: it's her, it's that spark, it's that smile you crack again absentmindedly. 

Maybe it's an illusion and maybe it's real. So genuine. Because you can just feel like she felt it too. She smiled to herself too. You saw it. Your mind is a river of flowing thoughts and your heart is pounding like an angry beggar at a rich man's majestic door. 

At that point, it's up to you. Not completely, but you have some say in what happens next. You can pray to Allah to make her yours -against all odds and circumstances! You can do the impossible to get her. So she can be yours and only yours and you can indulge forever in that feeling that you never want eradicated or obliterated or snatched away. You want it and you want it more than anything you've ever wanted. 

Denial. Refusal. Doubts. They're all against it. They'll whisper and scream things like: but you don't know her! You don't know her name or if she's fit for you. She's not the image in your head. How do you know if the feeling is mutual? How could it possibly be? She's too this and not that! 

But your heart speaks gently and lovingly to you while your brain simmers the denial, refusal, and doubts to make all this nonsense stop once and for all. You see her again and your heart says, "Ha I said so!" And your brain points to every other beauty in the room! But it's her your staring at helplessly as she timidly takes a quick glance then goes her way. And it's true; you don't know her, you don't know her name, you don't know if she's fit for you, and you most defiantly don't know if she feels the same or thinks of similar thoughts. 

Your problem conforms to a dilemma. You can't forget her now- at least, you know your heart won't let you! And maybe she'll laugh in your face, reject you, and you'll be the buffoon of the century. But you pray and pray for omens. And they're there; there's no denying that. You get a tranquility sent from the heavens that she's your soulmate and your other half. Although you are one whole person on your own, that changes when she's around and you become a half that needs to be completed. 

And it's true that you don't know those things about her, so you defy all odds and find your means of obtaining every little detail about who she is and what makes her that "her" that you can't help but dream, think, and talk about. The "her" you can't help but love and admire and be infatuated with. So you find out one thing that leads to another. 

And your brain will give in. It will be your heart's assistant. It will soon start simmering hope, faith, and enthusiasm. It will tell you: how do you know that she's doesn't sing about you? How do you know that you don't make her blush all the way home? How do you know that she doesn't feel helplessly in love with you too? 

So you man up with some given courage from the ones who occupied your heart long before she did. 

One day, miraculously, she's in your arms and she's all yours. No one else's but you! She completes you and she tells you that you make her and make her feel whole. You're one then- the both of you! And you smile and rejoice and laugh because of how crazy it all was. Only then is your faith forever restored because Allah answered a prayer you never really uttered but your soul screamed for from the moment you were born.