callous hands, gentle tides 

Live in your why 

The what is already sowed in you 

The how is God’s rain pouring down on you 

The when is the seasons that gradually peel away your layers so you can see all the miracles nestled in your core and how you  are, in truth, ever in bloom  

The who is the bee beckoned  by the nectars of your expression, the bypasser transfixed in your admiration, the children playing in your vast fields that lend themselves to freedom, the tired labourer resting in your shade, the birds perched on your branches 

The where is the soil that protects your roots 

oak tree

He’s the duaas I didn’t dare make 

He’s the words that escape me

He’s the feelings that portray me

He’s all my feel-good memories melted together

He’s the taste of October

He’s what turquoise would sound like 

He gives my soul a home

when we’re fire

I’m a discomfort absorber. Pain dashpot. Lemme redeem myself by not reminding you of the borders that announce my existence, just to remain in your presence because I’ve learnt that love is only safe and lasting in the shade. What do I do if the darkness is too cold and the light is too sharp? Oh how deep this emptiness goes. How wide the horizon is. It runs endlessly. An unrelenting reminder of how a shadow is doomed to always lag behind.

Amor Fati

You can’t cheat the truth

It lurks in your hiding place

It hides in your dreams

It’s carved inside your eyelids so that it’s the first thing you see when it’s dark

It casts a shadow on the faces whose gaze you long for

Relentlessly it pursues you

Diligently it embraces you 
It won’t let you go until you let go of the folly that you can outstrip who you truly are..  .

pause.

barren hearts, barren lands

cold blood dried up by hot air fans

botched minds sowing  murderous plans

clenched fists shaking hands

righteous tongues nefarious clans

shriveled compassion possessive demands

the earth may remain, the horizon weaved with sunset strands
but without a vast plain and a blue sky where the sight can expand
we die – homeless, blinded and damned

all ya gotto do is say yes

i want to take my husband on this cross-country trip I’ve been wanting to make for 2 years now, through Somalia. lagoons, canyons, mountain tops, hut cafeterias, bumpy truck rides, sunset watching on rooftops, evening gatherings with newly acquired friends sitting on a mat on the house compound swatting away mosquitoes in between intense listening to juicy storytelling and belly laughs, carwo-shoppin’, aroos-hoppin’, relatives shukansi eavesdropping on us wondering why we haven’t grown disillusioned with the honeymoon phase not knowing that this is where we discovered each other, in that honeymoon zone of the soul intersection, listening to downloaded rain sounds through the phone as we lie in the dark waiting for the electricity to come back on, car drifting in the outskirts of town, trying and miserably failing to start a fire in charcoal stoves, washing laundry by hand in big basins, taking turns reading classical Somali romance novels aloud, mosquito nets coming undone in the scuffle of love making, stargazing,spontaneity abound

img-20151201-wa0017.jpg

Possession

my lungs, my limbs, my head saturated with fumes from the pain

emotional flames billowing through to my consciousness
restrict my movement
cancel appointments 
just lie down, swim in this sea of fragmented memories
Floodgates
it’s like a place beyond time where my past and present and future meet 
every emotion, every thought, every belief, every reaction that I’ve been evading for over two decades come rushing in
like desperate mothers fleeing war with their youngins
i look myself in the bathroom mirror, a zombie.yet for the first time I feel the pain but I’m not the pain.
there’s a door between me and the pain
maybe that’s why I’m reliving all these memories and horrors
I’m secure enough to not succumb to the ferocious currents
My soul is bottomless, so emotions keep pouring in
i’ve learnt that keeping them away is like trying to contain the monsoon season by holding a bucket to catch the raindrops
i realize​ God intended me to be a blank canvas, a wanderer without destination, a vessel through which magic manifests
Rudderless
So this is the first time I’ve finally made peace with not being able to be free of that creative vortex
I’ve had to mourn and make peace with all the dreams and goals I imagined
Everything I detached from refused to part without ripping off a piece of me
my ego left threadbare
tattered
dragged
peeled like an apple, like clementine, like everything delicate protected by a tough outer shell

these floods bursting through my unconscious have come to clean off all the traces of everything that died in me
and to water the soil of my soul

when you’re damn good at visualizing alternate realities to dissociate to, it’s difficult to just be, awaiting the worst case scenarios your imagination has cooked up. 
when you have 8 lanes of thought traffic so that you won’t have to see what’s in your peripheral vision, it’s difficult to park to the side waiting for a tow truck to take you god knows where.

And truly, God knows where I’m headed. I didn’t realize how difficult it is for me to trust when I had to let go and trust in the unknown. I only discovered my inability to receive goodness when I asked and did not receive. I had a lot of pent-up anger towards God for putting me in situations that I felt I had no choice but to either suppress or avoid. It took me a couple of years to wade out in that scary place of exploring my relationship with Allaah. But because I was sincere in discovering the truth, I felt supported. I’d have ironic conversations with Him like “ I know I’m resisting becoming immersed in the religious/spiritual realm because of how I was burnt and shackled to people’s poor perception of who You are, and it’ll take me a while. But o Allaah, I ask you to keep me afloat until I reach the place where I’m able to sift through all those years’

and He did. Because I’m writing through one of my worst bouts of PTSD. Because I can feel a brighter future even as I’m not attaching myself to any desirable outcome. Because I can fathom an end to the pain. Because I’m marvelling at the beauty in pain. Because I have given up everything.EVERYTHING to live my truth, to make the most of my soul.

All because He didn’t give up on me even though I’ve been posed to jump the ship more hours than I’ve ever slept.

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