Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

2.3.19 |cherry

You know too often we get caught glancing, chances thrown at us and we can’t help but ignore them, and I’ve been thinking, should we always risk these kinds of forces, I mean like how often is it we get to make a choice that could give and take so easily, you know what I’m talking about, the ones that are not always as clear or empathetic when it comes to these people, you’ll meet a part of yourself that is telling you to listen to your body knowing very well your mind feels and your heart thinks as if this couldn’t have been anymore simpler, late last night I was looking at planets from bed, closed my eyes for a moment your name in here is this another way to uncomplicate and this just got even more painful, carrying uncertainty is almost like dragging a body, is also like telling yourself you’re worth care and love without the self, still honoring its tradition giving hope with no strings attached this the last effort for your mind to breathe at ease, ready to call home, selfish reasons for you, sometimes, they have to learn what its like to live without a loving mind and careful heart, the ones that claim it are appropriate to this type 4, call home and ask them to hold the door open for your return this is the final downpour, ask the sky to rain down on you, beg it to scare, so you learn to never go back, to drown far from this feeling for something new, treat yourself to take your own breath away you already know what to do, don’t let me repeat it mindless times, go, now.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Something like a few hours, and I’m so carelessly lost in a warmly lit room, I’ve set the air free to desire, I can’t resist falling into my own body, I close my eyes, lay on the bed, my arms across the sheets, I listen to the soft song I’ve put on reply, touch my skin, smile, I’m thinking about how warm and addictive this feeling is, want it to stay, I open my eyes softly brake into a familiar tune along with the replay button, then I, turn my rhythm to the wide full-length mirror gazed at me, I looked up at her naked, paused, when was the last time I saw this kind of happiness, I try not to guess too hard, can’t help stare in awe of its expressions, my mind has already lovingly grabbed at my sides pulling me closer, I smile a little, tease all angles and continue to love my body like this.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate


When your body learns to encrypt and put codes into the body to protect yourself from yourself you slowly learn that there has been a death in this body before, watch how close the mind likes to play tricks on the body trying to expert its codes to find release outside of this body, you’ll find this illness is fast between dreaming fable and lost in the present how confusing it much be to not see what is right in front of you, that we like to call these kinds of secrets evil, there has been malaise here for a long time now, we’ve become so familiar to the way it likes to hide so deep into the body make you forget who you are, and your memory is the blink of a second, only to look in the mirror and find traces of your bodies past its parts in the crators of the eyes, deep set skin aging with forgotten and hidden you didn’t know, you’ll look at the lines in your palms touch your skin like its familiar-, remind me of how much I don’t know about self, a being to this body that it is ill, that we have to write this way to bleed out its words, it has always been this way this was the only way since I was 10, can feel how tight it has been to breathe around here, still ashamed of being this kind of unpleasant, its not normal to be like this, talk to the body in second person, we aren’t allowed to be this weak, dreams that can be caught up in the mind are not the same as the types of malaise that are seen, that scar normally, have always been ashamed of being this kind of existing-, afraid that you’re a lie, that this is all just a dream, it has never been about sympathy, but rather empathy for what can not be completely understood.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

A time lapse conversation with depression (conscious, body and me..)

what did you do today, I spilt out of my bed without resting this body well, the mind stayed indoors too late, couldn’t sleep so we found irritation in this being, what were you thinking about, even if you ask me I don’t know there’s been too much that fell out of my control, to understand an intensity with the mind in a lapse I wouldn’t know where to begin, and yes you can say the beginning but there was no beginning nor end it just happened, I was still awake, okay so how are you feeling, I feel, heavy, numb, frustrated and blank at the same time, okay so when did you start feeling like this, well from what I can manage it was as soon as I left remedy, but you know I was fine I didn’t feel this heavy, so what are you thinking about now, well now I’m looking over buildings grey skies with blush blue hues, not at home had to leave, I felt so trapped, changed my surroundings so quick, now I’m listening to passion pain and demon slayin the body is talking on its own I’m not really here, it does this often, is there anything else you wanted to say something you want her to know, just, I just want her to live I want her to know that I want her to live, there is nothing I can say when she is feeling this way words are not enough, the mind is weighing down on her too much she can’t see anything all she can do is feel the mind, I just want her to know she can live, there is no wrong way of doing this pace your health you’re not in a race with the mind let it exhaust its reality I want her to know she doesn’t have to get involved she just has to watch this intensity pass, I’m here for her I just want her to live.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

3.9.17 – 4.9.17 | Me and my body

When I learn my triggers, I am learning what its like to sit in burning building, teaching my body to feel at this intensity is not to always be understood by others, that when we become critical about how we exist its really important to welcome how its been sparked, watching characters in the form of love speak about clinical like its not capable of death in bare hands, as though the body isn’t also teeth trying to protect, witness words like ungrateful leave bodies its enough to remind this kind of being unwelcome, reminding how human it can be to silence its existence, this body knows how its remembered with words that make it feel like they are invisible, like their feelings aren’t on purr and this is when the teeth are bared and devoured at the parts where hurt is the most tender, is when my body will once again bare teeth at them instead and maybe you regret to have opened its mouth, but never apologizing for the way it is feeling, come to remember how close we have seen death, that we are human beings learning to live with an illness that is not ready for this world, have to remind ourselves that we are worthy of our intensity even though we still don’t sing them loud enough for our bodies to sleep at its comfort, to never apologies to any confirming kin nor love sharpen their words in the name of connotations such as ungrateful to listen to this body, to help kin understand this clinical, to help you understand this clinical, that being sick this way is not a dream, their is malaises here, awakened fable, mindless narrative, an unconscious bond between me, and my body.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

3.9.17 – 4.9.17 | A Conversation

I had a conversation with the way Im feeling, told a friend that we are all existence to our own and that we fear so much, that we are all wanting someone to need us the way we need love, talked about the flow and symmetry of both its constraints, how we believe and spoke words that were the kind only awakened by the body, such truth, had a conversation about ourselves, about how the human body can lie, can lie so easily, gave each other meanings to the word family and real love, told her how I am still learning to mend broken hearts, remember telling myself the same advice, something like time, like my own experience, like she is worth all the love, like can’t you see it too, like how is love really blinding, like tell me what is real love, like the way we learn to befriend oceans and not our body, can’t see how much it protects, told her what I have been trying to tell myself, it was somewhere between heated conversation I taught my being too, what love could be, what I thought it looked like, how it should be treated, something so beautiful about how we love, that our being is a personality of how we choose to show love we care, sometimes too much, sometimes that we leave with broken hearts thinking love needs a second chance but we forget, that we are love the most, that when you can be this honest to self, and show love how honest you can be is learning to exist unapologetically..

Article #1: My name is Fatma, I am a 22 year old from Melbourne, Australia. Here is my story.

Hi, my name is Fatma, I’m a 22 going 23 this year. I am a sister, daughter, activist, blogger, fashion intrigued, clinically depressed, self-care, mental health creative writer who lives in Melbourne. Here is my story.

I was born and grew up in Kenya Nairobi, with both my parents one older sister, my younger sister and my baby brother. In 2002 we moved to Melbourne Australia. When I was 10 years old I was a shy kid that didn’t talk much and had one friend who I was with for a short time but after a while we drifted apart most of it is a blur which I honestly believe is a suppressing of my memory. When I was 10, it was the first time I had ever tried to kill myself, it was also around this age I had started writing, but to me it was just a way to express my feelings because I didn’t talk much or at all. I was bullied by one girl who up to this day will never forget her full name, and from here on out my life started to really take a toll on me mentally without me consciously realizing nor understanding. I started to feel as though I was just existing rather than living.

When I was in year 7, my mental health really plummeted. If you asked me about this year I literally have very little memory of it. I only remember finally having a group of friends in school, and being able to slowly talk and laugh but even up to this day I can’t remember if it was coping or compensating for my lack of visibility and isolation through out my primary school years and daily life from school and home. I also become more suicidal, and my family knew nothing of this. My routine at home consisted of me going to school, and living in my bedroom.

When I was in year 8 this is when I met my best friend who is still my friend up to today. She helped me with getting my confidence little by little, and slowly I grew into the person I am today. I am always very grateful to her, she has given me so much I can’t ever put it into words. Even with my personality starting to show I was still very caught up in my head and had all these unexplained emotions. But I figured everyone felt this way and that I would grow out of it as I get older.

I didn’t. As I got older, until I was 20 I was having recurring panic attacks mostly at night that I didn’t even know what was happening at the time, then after a while I realized something might be wrong. So it was this whole year that I started researching how I felt emotionally, physically and mentally to find out I might have major depression. I was in so much denial for a whole year and a half and this made my mental health worse. At this point, I had no motivation to do anything, even more suicidal, easily irritated, didn’t eat well, and shut everyone out.

Since then, I have made a blog for my creative writing, performed my first ever three poems on stage in Melbourne Afrocentric, made great friends, starting to network with beautiful creative souls in Melbourne, much closer with my sisters and brother, seeing a professional, and I am much more able to communicate my feelings now; And in the works of creating my brand for the organic skin care market.

My mental health is something I truly struggle with everyday, but it is also something I pride my time and care in. I am still learning about it and learning to take good care of it and my body in three cycles (emotionally, physically and mentally), to be much kinder to myself and know that my depression does not define me, it assists in molding me into a better person each day. Even when the really bad days make it feel like it can’t get any better, even so, this, is when I know I am the most creative.

Thank You.

Fatma Hussein


Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4/3/16 – 5/3/16
M.B.A: Whats left

You struck a cord, turn me into love game, turn this jagged into self pity, look at what you’ve done

You play this game too often, I should’ve known it could never be this easy

Its moments like these, that teach girls that this is what they are capable of and it all stops right there, as they hand you themselves, you hand them blood thirsty, teeth, scars, wounds, trailing holes into themselves leaving emotional damage of where their trust in boys, men will mutate

Can’t  you see what you’ve done, taking broken and giving it a chance, her taking unworthy giving it a chance, look at this cult of broken hearts, pretty words with empty sounds

You’ll never comprehend, this is where and why us girls learn that our bodies are like diamonds, precious, before we even learn the meaning of our emotional worth

It is why they say do not trust, treat your body like you’re beautiful, you are beautiful, be self less, be blunt dager, be so much conversation, but never forget you are worth every worship, never forget it is them who suffer most when a good thing is gone

Poem: Melody of Being Animate

Breathless 29.11.15

I wrote this thinking of you 
When I think about the way your narrative has me caught up, in twine to every last breath

You remind me so much of myself, but at the same time, the complete opposite

The way you fumble upon your words, as though they were to come right out of my own, as you spit our story, leaving me wanting more at every climax

You say to let you know when it stops being this real, this magic

But that day, has still yet to never come

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

#DyingLove 29.11.15

When I think about spending the rest of my life with someone I love
I think they must be someone who is broken

Someone with a puzzle piece constantly missing from their heart
Crying too often, or too much
Someone, who believes going on treasure hunts looking for it’s broken pieces will give them purpose
Someone who, enjoys listening to broken love songs to their violin shenanigans

When I think about spending the rest of my life with someone
I think about how opposites attract
I think about, how in love we’ll be with others imperfections
Drowning into calculated cute gestures, compliments, until we get so far to the bottom

When all we can do is stare into each others eyes, clasping our hands, in twining our fingers and

Dying, for each others love.