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

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Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

25/02/16

M.B.A: We made magic

Take me back, that night I learned how to fall again, the place where we danced felt like it was resurrected out of a beautiful love song, as I’m dedicating this, I am remembering detailed parts where you uncovered so much, told us your story, making our way back to our dance floor, you softy took my hand in yours without letting go, the way I didn’t let you go, what felt like our moment, our song, each song became a recurring memory, you became a recurring memory, your touch keeping me from being anywhere but too close, as your fingertips strum my skin, your eye gazing, I dare say hypnotized, I remember the way your eyes hid behind the dark corner, we became so much magic that night, hidden behind your glasses, as the dj’s light bounced off each beat, I’ll never forget the way I, backed up to that corner, the way your feet followed in my footsteps without no hezitation, bitting my lip pulling you so close, but what lingers the most is the way we made magic out of that night, it was the way our lips kissed, leaving ache for more, it was the way, I bit your bottom lip, n how you reciprocated with biting my tongue, I’ll never forget this magic, it was the day after when I had finally allowed myself to forget about him, you became a heartbeat, you have what I’ve told myself I can not leave without, something that’s growing too big for my insides to hold on to, this poem could never capture its magic, its my devoted weakness, this feeling quickly mutated into infatuation, you were all I could think about

When you realize being in your early years of adulthood are still pretty intimidating but also you’re not the only one, you feel better

Entry 3# If there are things I’ve realized about being in my very early years of adulthood its these few things: Don’t worry your never the only one You don’t have to have yourself figured out The amount of people … Continue reading

My year 9 teacher waved at me once, I never waved back, I just watched her car drive away

Entry 2#

When I was in year 9 I was always tied down to my friends at school and my bedroom.

There was an incident that can never leave my memory. I always remember it so clearly when ever I tell others about this story, and each time my enthusiastic exclaiming is always exactly the same; Because as a child who was still learning not only about herself, how to deal with difficult situations and no confidence to boot, was tough.

This wasn’t the first time.

These two teachers were notorious for always shattering and shaming me whether it be in the classroom for everyone to hear or for my eyes and ears only.

I was siting at a corner with three of my friends with books that we had been asked to pick out of the sticker colour coated boxes.

I started reading the book I chose for the second time and the first few pages didn’t interest me at all, so I asked my friend what book she was reading and if I could read a few pages of it because I was thinking of getting another book anyway.

Turns out I passed the first chapter and I was hooked! So I made my way to swap my book for a more interesting read.

The teachers then called us back to our tables and went around asking each of us what book we had chosen.

It came to my turn and as soon I said which book I had decided on reading, right in front of the class Miss Hamilton had looked at Miss Russel and said

“are you sure she can read that..I don’t think she can” 

Right in front of everyone, then they both looked at me looked back and mind you I could hear every word they were saying and so could the whole class.

It was right at that moment that I had stopped reading all together. I remember feeling so embarrassed and dejected I didn’t even know what to do, I literally just wanted to run to the bathrooms and cry.

Since that day I have only read one book, and is in the stimulating process of reading another.

It’s a healing process.

Tima OUT.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate (MBA)

Melody of Being Animate (MBA)
13/1/15 – Rita You Stupid

To Rita Panahi, this is my unapologetic catharsis, for every graphic marginalization written, for each column, each publication for you to keep your day job, speeching this oppression that my religion keeps me hostage, show me, where is this oppressed Muslim you scribble that doesn’t live in a third world country, not saying its plausible, but it sure as hell isn’t justified for every Muslim in your horizons, we’re not every Muslim girl you write about, we dare to be called human, emotions, boiling towards your unintelligent reasoning of all the crap you thought sounded informative on Sunrise, your exactly the kind of people that us Muslims pray for, our religion is not something for you to critic, it isn’t something for you to knit pick and twist, our religion is faith binding, its connecting with god to guide us so we don’t end up as ignorant as you, you, who thinks narrow minded, marginalizing the minority because of a majority, you, who believes, that comparing happens in Syria is relevant or equivalent to happenings in our backyards, I’ve heard Islam recycled with the word terrorist too many times, these words used for beasts, inhuman, dehumanized, I will not apologize for the way I feel, they need to know that not all Muslims are capable of beastly attacks of the innocent, they need to understand we are the innocent, we survive all that the media shackles on our chains, life chambers only they have the power to destroy, staining our daily lives effortlessly, the media is the reason I don’t feel safe riding the train, the reason walking out my door feels like hunting season, its numbing to know our world is slowly crumbling with injustice so strong, for awhile now I’ve felt just about done as Lupe, feels like unsolicited, existing, in this, tormenting democracy of the apartheid, when will injustice stop having a colour, a religion to hide behind.

FH – Fatma Hussein.