Save Your Condolences: Part 3

Part 3 
Lets say that I did just that and opened up… what would happen then? 
So in the end it’s better for me to lie to myself and ignore everything, no matter how many pounds I gain or lose, no matter how many tissue boxes I do or don’t buy, no matter how many times I lose it or don’t. I’ll keep lying to myself because I can’t face this. I can’t honestly admit it, believe it and live with it. I can’t wake up in the morning, waiting…hoping that he’ll beat me to the bathroom to make wuduh before me. That maybe I’m still in this horrible nightmare, yet I know every second, minute and hour I spend is just as real as the fact that he won’t be back. And I can just as much profusely repeat “His gone,” and still those words  will stay empty because I won’t believe it.  
I can’t. 
I have had many things come my way, many times I faced the challenge and dealt with it. Yet now, I can openly say that I’m running away from this, eyes shut and bound fists around a lie. I’m bound to fall and scrape my knee, bruise my elbow and break my nose, but like always I’ll be “fine” or “great”. 
Basically, the reason why I’m sharing this with you all is because in order for me to believe my own lies, I don’t need nor want your sympathy or awkward looks and never ending sighs, much less do I need your words of how “strong” I may be. I don’t want to answer questions about how things are because that’s a question worth NOT answering (and the answer is just as obvious). I don’t want to hear about how beautiful his smile was, because you won’t be the one to miss it every morning as much as my family and I. I don’t want to hear about how young he was, because you won’t be the person to wish every day that you could trade places with him. Neither will you sit years later thinking of him, because you will move on but I wont. Denial has been more to me as a friend than a foe and I’d much appreciate it if you didn’t bring him up to me, because I will say my lines “That every thing is meant to be,” and reenact my role in this play that’s been inscribed in me. I’ll tell you now that, in those words I will not be the one to speak but my character will.  
“In the end you lie to yourself until you see the sky to be green and the ground to be blue.”  – Chai

Save Your Condolences: Part 2

Days after, sympathetic looks and over exaggerated sighs became the logo of communication. Even then trying to forget became a challenge. I didn’t want to hear what the latest news about “it” was. My head was so wrapped up in painting myself in the shade of “I’m fine,” and ignoring the truth (which I genuinely still do) that I let the lion starve. images-4

No one, and I mean no one should leave a lion starving, especially when you eventually HAVE to (by all means) face it and feed it with your own hands.  Instead of facing what I felt, sitting down with myself and thinking about the magnitude of emotions I had then and now, I busied myself with whatever I could find.  From reading books to mindlessly talking to friends as if all in the world was well.

Generally you’d think that there was some type of way in processing whatever was going on inside my rib cages, sadly there seems to be no actual step by step manual that tells me how to get this over with. Keep in mind this lion has not been fed and its growls rumble harshly against thin skin.
You’d think the answer would be just as simple as throwing the towel and facing it all.
But what does it mean to face it all? Do you mean to tell me that if I run headfirst into this storm that somehow in someway I’d survive? That I’ll come out from the other side just fine? It’s easy to say “yes, I will” but to genuinely open up and “explore” whatever I feel is much harder done than said.
Waking up constantly, suspended between the feeling that this was a very harsh nightmare that my unconscious somehow conjured up and the eerie uncomfortable idea that yeah…this…is real happens often.
“It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to get angry and punch the wall, rip your poetry out of frustration. Everything that you do right now is happening because of it… Let. It. Happen. Don’t shut your emotions down, because it will hurt…it will hurt much more than what you feel now.”


Save Your Condolences: Part 1

20131128-204956.jpg Much to my dismay, I’ve been faking through my days. Keeping up with whatever came up. As if nothing has occurred within this past month. As if I didn’t hold my heart in my hands and watched it bleed outside my chest. In all honesty, as a child I’d play off my pain. Reassuring others that even with this bleeding knee, bruised elbow or bloody nose, that I was in fact all right. Reassuring others became my way of ignoring whatever storm ran within me. Besides, distraction became my only hope for sanity. So riding as far from whatever was happening inside, kept me from breaking down and admitting that I was hurt. Growing up, I learned to reassure others, twice as fast and “walk off” whatever pain came my way. Dealing with my pain, anger or sadness was like dealing with a hungry lion. Deadly. So like any (ab)-normal person, I’d just as much put it off.
Yet little did I know that as time passed by, the roars and growls of this lion in me became tense. Shaking my very being. It’s hard to fake through days on end, endlessly reassuring people and strangers that “things happen, this was meant to be.” Lying became more of a friend to me than a foe, lying about how I felt and letting others feel just as well as they did many month before this happened became my goal. Restoration of the old me, as the new me struggled to pick my broken soul in time for the next blow became my theme song. It’s an eye opening experience, one that I would never wish on my worst enemy.




This poem came to me, while I was watching the news about Syria a while back. Little did I know about the severity of the revolution taking place. The raw emotion that was captured on tape brought a wave of emotions back to me. As flashbacks of my own history and past clashed with the future. The feeling opened old scars and so with this heavy heart, I wrote this poem entirely for nations that have been oppressed by clueless and heartless governments and their leaders. My prayers go to them and their families.


SHE woke up
bursting her earlobes …
Gun shots brought her to a state of CONFUSION
As time SLOWED Then stopped
Thunder crashing, people gasping, CHILDREN crying
Why must we WATCH them
slowly Dying, fighting, HOPING
Calling out to a world that has them on unchecked voicemail
Doing nothing to help
We failed at our pre-HUMANITIES test
As they protest
Try and Protect
When tears have choked them
Swimming in depth of sounds of mourning fighters
As we float on Greedy life boats of non-respect
Losing the morals WE had once found to be CORRECT
Drowning her in crowds of
Screaming, saving,

SHE WOKE UP to the noisy crowds
Trying, Grasping for air
Without a doubt this life of ours is not FAIR
Trashed streets covered with cement and blood
Soulful tears dry up on the face of MOTHERHOOD
As HER son fights for her
Talk about a MOTHER’S DAY GIFT
This boy GAVE his LIFE to her
Dedicated his love FOR her
Took a bullet to the brain By her

As she took a Knife to the HEART she shared with him
Bled out her tears from pores of her soul within
DRAPED herself on his limp body
CRYING for a son she almost died for Who is now DYING
only to smile back to her face and whisper Back to her
“I found the love, you gave. It was between your arms like a soldier”
And for this she ached, on blood covered sand
Timeless pain filled her lungs
As she GAZED at his shallow breathing

A slow beating drum crashing immense waves of love
They woke up hand in hand
A nation oppressed far too long
Breaking chains on their body
Putting their fist up
for broken PIECES
of love and national longing
Half way across the SEAS
With a cursed and witnessing world…

She DROVE on
Praying as a woman with black covers
Separated from hate, politics and it’s evil
Heated by these debates Of whether to help or not to even bother
By men who waste, glorious minutes and hours
With well dressed suits in tall and fancy towers
As THEY live another day
hoping for power
Fools in complete control
Like hate and devour
Having no vision
To help or console A generation

When in this case She fights for her PEOPLE
Like a warrior, a soldier
She Screams out for ” FREEDOM”
Beat and step
Like a still bound DRUM but
her legacy still kept BEATING ON
Heads held high
And news cast found consent LIKE SPIES Bring truth to the table
and beneath this all The covered lies
where conquered
As she still hums
In the beating drum of his heart

The word freedom.



Imprisonment Of My Soul

For some reason, writing is the tissue to my tears and lately I’ve been trying to stay stable, so going back to old writings seemed like a good idea. Till I ran into this one and for some reason this poem seemed to rip apart wounds into larger ripples which then left scars that marked pain, anger and a load of other feelings. Honestly if emotions were an object, my sadness would be like rain.

Imprisonment of my soul

The breeze waves peace to me as she says
Just yesterday there was peace and now there is a cracked past with no rain
Two years of old love for a new world stays the same
As new generations lose tongs and grasp hard with red knuckles in their faith

Imprisonment of my own she said
In a place where love is said by mouth but the heart is filled with pain
A place where cause is done swift with a quick death and no wait
Shots fired, pop pills and spills genius brains
Imprisonment of her own she said
Messes a mother would nag over but rather cries at her daughters grave
She said two shots is all it takes
She cried out with lungs filled with hate
A confined space between her hands stays empty
As she spoke, broke and closed her eyes
A mind pure like her’s and a heart stained like mine
wouldn’t be able to fix the scars so well defined
Within the bowels of her soul
Imprisonment of my own she said
Words grip hard on her vocal cords
Bruises sing high notes on her skin and more
Yet even the coarse red sand doesn’t stand a chance
To change what has been done
to eradicate the sad melodies that have overcome
And yet you say that there is still time to change
Even to this day, time itself has been stained
With the blood of my brothers, mothers,sisters,fathers and children
Imprisonment of our own she said
That of my own,
I am the wind that blows north
I was, the past guided dreams of an artist sins
I will only be the euphonious reminiscence of this long forgotten poem and
If the world was perfect
there wouldn’t be no war
all would be well
no pain
no shadows of tears holding the sore and sorrow faces
no loved ones lost by reasons of useless needs
no hero would be killed for their actions
but perfect is just a word
these days men make widows
while wives weep
Imprisonment of my own
She said

Imprisonment of souls,
Define the very being of our morals
and here we stand
casting only a pitiful glance their way
So that what we see, in our minds
don’t existe, little do we know how much
it cause pain to resist
and exist, as wars of your own world occur
Little does your words make a change
Regain, and restrain from pain
as bombs become shelters and leave some astrayed
far from their home
strangers to a land so vast

Imprisonment of their souls she said

The Art Of Getting By

“Just get by the day,”
“Time will heal all pain,”
“No, time never heals, you just deal with it differently,”
“It’s not going to be easy,”
“The Lord wanted him early,”
“Never lose your courage to cry,”
“You’ll change the world sometime,”
“He’s on a better place,”
“Stop crying, it screws up your face,”
“You know my uncle died just last year?”
“I’m so so very sorry for your loss ,”
“Im thinking about you,”
“I understand your pain,”
“One step at a time,”
“How are you?”
“That’s a stupid question, nevermind.”
“If you need anything, just call me”
“The pain never goes away,”
“Distract yourself,”
“At least his in heaven,”
“I swear you are strong,”
“I’d be crying my eyes out if that happened to me,”
“It never does get easy,”
“From my experience in M.E.T, a person dies quickly without air,”
“Sometimes The Lord has his reasons, even if it doesn’t look fair,”
“You seriously are handling this better than most,”
“He won’t want you hurting yourself like this,”
“Are you crying?”
“Can I hug you?”
“Wheres the one that died?”
“Sh sh sh let go off his hand,”
“His gone,”
“We are right here for you,”
“Stop holding his hand and let go off of him,”
“Don’t, seriously don’t cry,”
“Are you alright?”
“Come here,”
“What’s wrong?”
” Khadija?”
“Crying is not a sign of weakness, so cry your heart if you want to baby,”
“Don’t cry, seriously you need to stay strong for your siblings,”
“Why are you quiet?”
“What’s on your mind?”
“I’ll be honest, it doesn’t look good.”
“Did he know how to swim?”
“This is what you should do,”
“Don’t blame yourself,”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,”
“Learn to love the pain.”
“It never, oh lord I’m telling you it never gets easy,”
“7 years ago, and I’m still crying,”
“It’s funny how the world still moves on,”
“Do you need a tissue?”
“I’m thing of you,”
“I don’t know what to say, and I’m scared to say the wrong thing,”
“Don’t cry,”

10 Things I’m Grateful For

I found a neat research that surrounded around the aspect of positive thinking, apparently if you acknowledge what you’re grateful for every night before falling asleep, you become a little happier and tend to appreciate what you have been given by Allah, and I’m a strong believer in being grateful, little do I know what I have now may not so much be here tomorrow. So I thought, why not make a list of what I’m grateful for and I genuinely think this is something worth doing myself and maybe for you.  In all honesty, you’ve been given so much and yet are still distracted by what you could have, don’t so much as worry about the “what-more-can-I-have factor” and try easing your mind into the “Alhamdu’Lilah for everything both good and bad that I’ve experienced” mindset. So with no further ado, I give you my top ten things, in which I’m genuinely grateful for.


1. I’m grateful for being a Muslim and for all the hidden and unhidden blessings that I have, and the mercy of Allah swt. I mean this a religion where even a mere smile is charity. My religion teaches, peace, patience, self-understanding, humility, love, bravery and so much more. The very core and values of humane actions are promoted, modesty is condoned and females aren’t used as sexual objects to “beautify” items in stores. Unlike what most people think, the headscarf is a symbol of modesty, not onlya reminder to females but also males that there is more to a person then theirr looks.

tumblr_mfbi0yZRcd1qdlh1io1_2502. I’m grateful for my family, My parents especially for being there and always reminding me and my siblings to treat everyone kindly, to be forgiving and to love the earth. Honestly, for all that they’ve sacrificed to have us learn and become the way that we are and better. All l I can say is Alhamdu’Lilah, I legit couldn’t ask for anything better from them.

3. I’m grateful for being exposed to hatred, injustice and sadness and all the negativity of the world, as much as that sounds weird. I mean think about it, would you understand the concept of happiness if it weren’t for the exposure of sadness in the first place? Furthermore, if it weren’t for the exposure of hatred and injustice that I’ve been exposed to, then I wouldn’t be so motivated to help others and be determined to make sense of my life by helping others.

tumblr_lwp1uiFqKg1qb9qh4o1_500_large4. I’m grateful for the few people whom I genuinely call friends and some as close as sisters, some whom I’ve met just now and others whom I’ve lived my life with, both whom remind me of what the meaning of loving for your brother what you love for yourself means. They’ve since day one put that very statement in action, with all honesty you know who you are because I’ve expressed my gratefulness for your being ‘ery day!

GIF-SHRUGS5. Oddly enough I am also grateful for “friends” (Notice the quote on quote). Why, do you ask? If it weren’t for them, I wouldn’t understand what it truly means to not be there for someone, or to not support them. If anything else, they’ve taught me that even a “friend” can be a nomadic one. A person whom at the sight of trouble will drop you like a sac of bad habits. I genuinely thank you, and if you’re reading this, which I highly doubt, I hope you forgive me for anything that I have done to you and I hope Allah swt brings us both closer to the straight path.

images-26. I am grateful for living the life that I’m living at the moment, every single bit of it taught me a lesson, from avoiding talking bad of others to staring at the lunch lady as she scooped up a load of orange chicken, in hopes that my intense eye contact with her may hint that I want more than just the usual spoonful of that delicious orange chicken.

tumblr_mwpgks6TKI1rp0sj7o1_5007. I am grateful for being the way that I am, awkwardly tall, big glasses, could pass off as a tree branch with feet, a lisp and stutter, I also tend to trip over my abayah a little too often. This may be a total taboo of the whole, “be cool about it” gizmo, but let me tell you that I love myself, enough to live over moments of embarrassment and total defeat. Sure, I’ve had my rough spots, awkward moments and iffy changes but in the end of the day, models and perfection are unrealistic things. Flaws, bad hijab days, surprise zits, awkward stutters astoundingly happens to be a reality for me and I am perfectly fine with that, I genuinely am.

Hermione_Granger_♥8. I’m grateful for being so analytical lately and actually taking my surroundings into consideration as to the source of my unhappiness. Meditation and prayer are the capitals of my soul. Patience and the will to surround myself in an environment that promotes inner-peace and a great deal of ambition is my total interest and lately I’ve made that my total priority, I’m tired of trying to cover up a whole relationship filled with lies and backbiting…. you’d think a person would get tired of eating their sisters flesh every time they spoke. Thank god, avoiding such people clears my mind for better things.

sheldon9. I am super, super, super….califragilisticexpialadotiously grateful that this is my senior year! Lord knows how long I’ve been waiting for this year! Paper cuts of hurried essays, last minute projects and witnessing that one girl that always  happended to skip to every SINGLE class we went to…(I secretly used to be jealous of her, since I stayed moping the floor with my abayah and walking and dragging my feet to every dreadful class). Three and a half years of complete dreadful, hectic, inspiring, ballistic, bazaar, awkward and definitely baffling moments and here I am…I guess I can now say that I managed to live through it!

10. Last and but certainly not the least, I’m grateful for you, my readers. I genuinely appreciate the fact that you take the time of your day to read my writing, Thank you. Honestly, Thank you, Shukran, and Merci!tumblr_mdx9c14lW21r4g20u

As corny and awfully cliché as this was, I did find it remarkably fun and uplifting. I don’t know… I might just make this a habit from now on Insha’Allah, I do recommend that you should try it out! And if you do, I’d love to share it on my blog!