Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

To date. 5.8.19

I confess, I don’t want to admit this too loud, so won’t you come closer, I want to madly share with you what I have found to love as hard as you wish you wouldn’t, I’ve been holding this in so much I am not sure why my heart had began reaching for yours this restlessly now, it feels like for so long we may have thought we would not make it here, and now we may be two souls that have found each other yet again, so my heart is breaking asking me it has to be more than fate, believe that when you have felt like you can’t remain without this feeling too you start to believe in dotting motions like love again, you start to understand that whole bodies are more than a specific guise of a person, I read somewhere that destined to meet mirror each others reflections and I think this might have some sight to it, I never really stopped believing in love I thought love stopped believing in me, funny how love likes to find us late in the morning, likes to wake before the light of a new day, how this feels like long before the beginning of time, strangely uncanny how some of us are as dreamy as passing clouds as hopeful hearts, how we have been found to believe everything happens for a reason, thought you left these floating feelings when you stopped looking up at wishing stars, I find myself writing you into my existence even when I don’t mean to, even when I don’t cast to love you this hard how does a heart loose a love this blue planet of ours, -I gave affirmations the way I breathed into this 3D reality, how canny is spring in late November meeting such an air about her fire-, she knows about what it means to be scared while in love with wounded hearts on paths damned with self, she is living proof, knows we don’t need anybody sometimes we are still scared of being lost or running away, for her much like her anchored planet, for him much like a brave placement into compassion about matters of the heart, a type of softness that doesn’t believe in love anymore maybe they have this in common, her a future and him a past, how cycles learn to repeat its intended sucker, this is all her luck, she can feel all this impatience into her and his hand soft on her heart, he will never know this secret season is so typical, seasonal love ended with him some time near her high feminine vibration she claimed to feel his heart some time ago, a home that is not here, a patient masc with high vibration, his air is a speechless sent and shes back to where she had almost began-, The thing with energy care when it comes to love is that they are the almost explained without mantras, without being motivated by knowledge, reflection and intuition-, A love without being intuitively self aware is a love manifested to be karmic, and maybe this too is still, maybe I am madly wrong and I just can’t seem to let go as much as I think to will it.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

26.7.19 – silver. (Observing) Rain (fear.)

Lately I’ve been thinking about clearly understanding my freedom, how this integrates with my interpersonal relationships, I told my heart I wanted to see this for all it had ready in place knowing I may be asking for too much, when I think about the connection between people I think about when I was ten, I think about what I did to learn how to walk with my mouth panicked, back then I was left to believe that this is who I am and that being quiet was being naive, that being naive was having no voice of my own, I used to write myself into a place I was learning to fit into and more of myself here, I was being taught about how the world works and what it could be without my being existed, I started writing dreams of observational moral sanity, this is where I began trail and error of my true identity, I wrote into worlds that only I knew of and how they could teach me about being here, I found so much ease into myself this way, it wasn’t until I grew into my own world and outside of the reality present that I learnt what a panic attack could look like into me, the nights when my heart was racing and I silenced it without asking about its ache I lost my pree years telling myself to stop feeling, the following nights where I suffocated on my own tongue exhausted from existence right hand on my heart I was telling my breathe to swallow its own hurt, I was never taught what it meant to live through panic attacks and each time I have one now, I use words into myself the way I love, the way I learnt to use into my dream world first, I constantly reminded myself that we have always seen the world for it’s honourable potential, that this is a rare gift, on most days I beg my body for its affection the way I learnt to walk away from heartbeats that know how to break our heart,- On my 24th birthday I wished for my own life and more dreams, I wished for growth and more courage, when rainy days came I counted my gratitude’s so well kept, I told my body look, look how far we have gotten, I remind her that we are stronger together and the artist in me is the child who survived her own volition and fear of out of control-, Sometimes, I will do nothing on days that have learnt to cripple my mental state the most or my mental state or me, having this kind of imbalance reminds best of my senses, it reminds me that being this self aware is worth every drop of our magic, to be live on survival with depression and anxiety into us promises our ability to feel the world this intellectually observant.- With this Spring in Late November, and the help of this worldly reality I will have broken myself tirelessly timelessly to reach my soul, and I would do it all over again.- it hurts.

Entry #15: I want to tell you exactly what happened to me today, while trying to leave the house + you should know this was not the first also psa I usually cry about it alone..

22 july 2019 at around 2pm – 230pm – Spring in late November.

I had built up frustration for months and feeling unsettled within myself, so I set out on this day, a Monday to self care by going to Dymocks at collins st book store to have coffee browse around, read and walk back and forth wanting to buy more books.

My morning started out pretty alight. I was still stuck with that type of uncertainty and off mood/ irritation but honestly I had been waiting for this Monday for a few days now and I was determined to leave the house and head into the city. So I meditated with the headspace app for 10 minutes before I did anything else, gathered my energy to getting ready for my self care day as planned. It took me longer than what I had decided on, I kept doing small things like changing what I was wearing, feeling conscious about how my body fit into my clothes, and wanting to take advantage of the winter sun I put on my make up looked at my eye shadow criticised it so I took it off and applied my foundation over it unhappy but still hopeful, and I packed up my bag pack ready to walk out the front door.

As I closed the door behind me, my headphones in walking to the station I started getting into this mood/ energy that was so strong it started to take over my body. I kept walking and thinking I just need to get onto the VLine and I’ll be fine, I just need to get keep walking I’ll be fine,once I reach I’ll be glad I did this for myself. I needed to believe this so hard. Because I had been staying in my own environment and started to feel stagnant and too comfortable with despair. I walked about nearly half way stopped in my path, looked down I wanted to turn back so hard, its as though my body was begging me with all its got to please turn around and go back and try again with another day locked into my mind. I felt so compelled, I went into the side turn not far from home, stood there and calmly walked back home. I opened the door and I remember thinking I miss seeing my dad, I missed his voice and his big hugs, his laugh and being next to him. So I walked into his space and sat on his chair positioned right outside a window facing our corner backyard. I heard my mum make her way into the space and ask me what was wrong unable to answer her I eventually started crying quietly with my headphones in and her hands wrapped around me. In that moment I knew why I was so upset, I heard words say “I can’t even leave the house” “what’s wrong with me?” my mum asked me again what’s wrong? this time with her eyes red and I just sat there and cried hearing “now you’re worrying her for no reason” I cried some more settled down and walked upstairs sitting on the floor with the sunlight beaming inwards. Mum asked me again something must be bothering you, is it a feeling talk to me I’m here for you is it a feeling she asks again. I look at her my eyes ready to cry again and I say “I don’t know, I don’t know. Im fine, I don’t know what’s wrong.” and I tell her it’s okay I’ll be fine for the fifth time, thinking and knowing I just need time to be alone for a while. And then I got hungry, so I went to an all you can eat with Nadren.

Fatma.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (Emerging Writer from the West #EWF19)

When asked to write myself into my home, I can feel my anxiety flow through my body, the twins are awake now, my home has welcomed versions of myself, I am proof enough, those who know about this soul also know how it loves back, how it speaks softly into its name and firey into their homes first, I am a protector of heartbeats and each time they come to me I brave into a healer, a type of myself I have wished for the younger me, when I was younger, I cut my 4c the way I learnt to cut into my skin, learnt to fluently speak in poem then into dreams, it wasn’t until I forgave myself here, somewhere in my mind I had found a way into self love, taught my mouth how to care for my body, my body than taught a secret ritual to the soul, a half introverted half extroverted me, and in the middle of all my chaos, there, I found myself too, I was a born self taught dreamer, when I began to choose who I wanted to become I learnt the meaning of words without its terms, I closed my eyes, and changed the way I heard my blackness, changed the way I was being seen into a careless world. I swore, I swore this way was the way to never be, I swore to remember words like solitude in justice and how they meant out of my mouth, a black woman learning metaphors for the life of her, I swore to never miss mirrors, to never miss the way I stared into my 4c, it was never who I am to soften my hair, it was who I was becoming, to burn its roots, I learnt words that birthed bright colours, passed down recipes and double meanings, felt them in my mothers hands to my fathers voice, I saw my path crave words like carouage, like love, words like enough, words that meant more than skin deep, words that demanded my attention and more of my blackness, I found myself into a reality that taught me about nourishment, how to care for my 4c, how my coiled curls run so deep my mother sings your hair is rich and beautiful, how each time my mahogany was stripped away from me I claimed in right back, each time, and every, other time even, when my voice was chocked out of me upon stolen lands, I was a vision, claimed memories, learned them the ways it streams through me, my existence is the art of many seasoned generations, you can not fake this identity, you can not simply fake how my mother cracked her voice every time she cared to my 4c, watching her take time for my hair was an I love you, is was a take care of you, a forever feeling, her hands care taught me to love my hair even when I missed wash days, when I think about how it feels to have gotten here, how it feels to be this black, and this women, when I think about how my identity is questioned into me, like a locked home being forced open, their mouth speaking into pressed ego’s, like a joker game, I go blank, there is a truth heavy into me, when it comes to putting my soul into absolutes for them, it is only when I remember that each word are extensions of meanings I remind my soul that our home has never been one to follow rules or spectrums, rather acknowledge that they are there, and never the end of my written, I am a home that feels with the mind and listens with the heart, I am someone with contradicting senses there is always another way about my every extension, I know what it feels like to not belong, and to feel like you belong into a type of extension, I speak in only my reality and dreams, sometimes, a better me is growth, is spring in late November, meaning I can be this intangible too, is to accept me, is soft, is a love without trapped chains, there is always a way about everything, I know this, I know this because I know what it is to heal like you want to save yourself from yourself, I also know how my hair welcomes her texture into a room, how their hands have no welcome mat here, when I see my people being shamed for what they have had their whole lives appreciated first outside of my skin I remember why we speak so highly of us, why I speak so highly of us, why we love so highly of us, I know this, I know this because I know what it holds to be self and fire, my journey with my identity has always been becoming, has questioned my existence, a six part better self that begs a better me each day I am with, or without my depression-, let me sweeten your tongue for a life time, I am a Fire in the Rain, saga moja, in collateral beauty publication of me first, first, who I am, second, what I am becoming, third, when I become, forth, where I will become, fifth, how I will become, and lastly, why, I am becoming. So you see, my journey is a forever written.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

8.2.19 | Remix

Parts of me are still afraid we put on faces for not only the world but ourselves sometimes, we know how the mind aches when we excuse it out of our body this way and let the heart take over sometimes the questions are more than the answers and they answer themselves you’re not a presence here you’re are a guest in your own body, the unfamiliar way we treat ourselves trying to heal ourselves is so funny sometimes if you cannot see the humour in this will you be judged about your healing too, open mind with open spaces are both knowledge and a dream we want both for the taking we can not survive without the other parts of ourselves it is a discomfort that we have forgiven and moved onto the next traumer we are our own remedy now, the last the best they will say, I let some step foot into this home they disrespected my eyes and my mouth said nothing my mind was so loud they have all taught me things about myself that I have been holding back and fought for other homes, I don’t speak my truth all the time only when I can see misguidance in their eyes, I familiarize myself with their mind with how they speak and think about their home, your body is treasured force and shield it is always more than we bargained for which is how we say we are not sure or we don’t understand how these things have become to us, your body doesn’t make mistakes it creates unique lessons for everyone at home to learn and grow from, where else do you think knowledge is power also came from, think about it a littler harder, ask yourself a lot more questions this is your home after all, if you can not be your truest self here what else do we all really expect, where else can you really go, who else can you really trust, we’re our best and worst authority of love right.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

31.03.17
Compromise, family

“..into our personal, do we get to choose, or is it a compromise, do we compromise for family, do we choose to trust family or does, our body use its senses who can you, choose to trust if not family, right, I mean, what are the specifics that we like to, mismatch cross word blur the lines compromise, I mean hurt, I mean how long, I mean, do we compromise, should we compromise or, do we believe that there is, balance in this family, I want you to really think about, how much good necessary in the name of compromise for family, then I want you to, look at your reflection, talk to this body, yourself, the way you talk to family, as it questions n answers the way, you, would compromise for family, we give so much to others before we even give to ourselves where are the blank spaces in this, choose to separate words in the name of comfortable, words like family, like love, that we love family, we can, only honestly give what we have experienced when it comes to advice, n even then is that family, or does this not make sense, do we need to do more when it comes to, family love, how much do we compromise when it comes the words we choose to, give meaning to family, n how much we love in order for them, how do you make family understand…”

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

17/4/16 – 18/4/16
A letter to my younger self
I don’t even know where to start, which wound to apologize for, will never forgot the tears that up to this day will never stop, if there was one thing I had to apologize for first, it would be for up to this day about the way you feel about yourself, that even when you were younger told nobody about your scars, that I was always there with you, for you, I told you I would never leave you, even that day when you fought with her again n you went downstairs feeling so much, you couldn’t tell which emotion came first, you took the biggest table knife you could find in the kitchen drawer, put your arm out, made sure your eyes were ready, took the knife helping it find its way over your bare skin, you were only 12, this is what you wanted her to understand, even though it didn’t make sense to anybody but yourself, you tried to make her look as you cried for all you insecurities, your broken body, the pain, the emotion that you didn’t understand, you tried to make her feel what you felt but she didn’t understand even when that knife scrapped your bare skin several times, she never looked back, she never tried to look back, it was at that moment you felt that she didn’t care, that it wouldn’t matter, that you wouldn’t care if your blood found its way to the floor, a puddle of emotion, when I think about how when you were little you tried to make sense of so many things, but nothing was working, nothing felt the way it suppose to, there so many things to apologize for n I’m sorry about them, I’m sorry that even up to this day you still cry every single night, I’m sorry that even though you smile its not enough to fix the emotional anxiety, anxiety, something you can’t stop doing, I’m sorry that there’s nothing to really be appreciative of, all I can say is that at least now, I’m getting help, I’m trying so hard to be better for you, I made a promise to myself to be happy, to try n be positive, its all so hard even now, but I’m thankful I’m here today, I just want to make us happy, make these feelings stop, I want us to move forward, to be happy, so I’m getting help for the both of us

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

19/03/16 M.B.A: Soul Mate When her name escapes my narrative, I think about what her name means to me she reminds me that there is still time, all is not lost, she reminds me that it is okay to be … Continue reading

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

12/07/15, 5/01/15
M.B.A: This is a letter to the future

Dear Future,

Don’t let me down, my kin are going to be living for the change that is yet to come, lets just pray together, you’d think living in this life would have been far better than being enslaved, but in this reality its practically enslavment to silence, holding fear too close, no voice to reach real help, my brothers and sisters left for dead in America, their poems becoming a calling for anyone willing to listen, how dejecting, even in this era being black is still a problem, being treated like beats that roam around too freely, dear future, promise me that we’ll be safe, thick skin is starting to sound like the definition of melanin, I need you to promise me that just becuase its been too many years to count that you still haven’t givin up, dear future, please have thick skin too, I know its tiering to hope when there aight much hope left in humanity, but please do what you can, praying for another black boy, another black body, to be safe n not be left on the pavment is that too much to as for, their lives meaning nothing to this world, a mourning that we’ve been singing for as long as melanin has been spilling its blood, dear future, we’re tierd too, but I hope that you grow our think skin, so that even when kin is still being violated, assolted, murded, killed, draging their black bodies statining evdidence to show the world their sins, pray with us future, because we arn’t done, we still have so much to engrave, so much black history correction is left to do, dear our people, future says don’t give up, I will always give you more time, I know its hard, but I will always give you more time