Melody of Being Animate: Poetry

Humility in humanity | 7.05.2024

I’m being forced to think about how I see myself in spaces I have begged to find. I watch as my body unwinds and learns to slowly ease into the comfort of people who see the good in humility. I am reminded of the importance of self, the reflection it begs at your most jarring and honest critic—yourself. It is here we get the opportunity to really see who we are without the thought of what preys on unpleasant behavior. How we view ourselves is how we turn the word humility inwards, realizing we only have ourselves to succeed.

Do you remember the tale I told about the rain, how it likes to visit us when we are most connected to ourselves? I’ve been thinking about the state of creation it puts us in, how it runs our minds wild, and we exist to live here. Our passion for ideas is so sweet here. The water here is boundless. And just like Ali Bin Abi Talib, Radhi Allahu Anhu, the first Imam of our faith, we dig and dig for the sake of God’s love, for the sake of God to look at the life we have been given and cherish its privileges, living in good intentions and righteousness.

It is when we unlock this weather that we are able to confide in God and connect our hearts closer to the teachings of what has been written for us before our dear Prophet Muhammad, Sallallahu Alayhi Wasallam, could read or write. The teachings of humility in the human connection and unwavering trust in Allah Subhanahu Wa Ta’ala were written for us to subscribe to. The way the world moves, including its demise, the Book of God is our key to the paradise we dream of on this earth. The fruition of our discipline, the control of our desires, has always been at the tips of our tongues, biting the inside of our cheeks, praying as we let go of worldly desires. The unfolding of societies—it is only with the permissible permission of God do we have this glory.

Melody of Being Anime: Poetry

FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA. PALESTINE WILL BE FREE. | 30.03.2024

I whisper to my soul, this world remains indifferent
to the paths we tread, yet God beholds them all.
I remind myself we ought to live with intent,
for God, the singular witness, notes our rise and fall.

I battle myself, confront sins that Heaven’s gates will refuse.
My heart alone speaks, yearning for that divine embrace.
No fear of those who innocence abuse,
smearing children’s blood, blind to its holy trace.

Indifferent they remain, to their cleansing,
dividing a world anew — ask the earth-shakers of their apartheid.
They’ll not speak of you, the wronged, the prophetic,
for their deeds are veiled, their consciences unclean.

We march, we cry, our cities echo your plight,
mourning for lives lost, of the terror from the skies.
Apologies we offer, through your sleepless nights,
for tainted waters, pacified hunger, broken families, silenced cries.

For brothers, sisters, sons, and daughters we weep,
with every day they choose to turn away.
We warn them, God observes His flock, His sheep,
if His fear they lack, our resolve they’ll surly prove.

To Gaza’s mothers, fathers, children, hear our vow,
our fight for you persists, unwavering, every minute, this we vow
To those who silence keep, your time approaches now,
a new era dawns, and with it, a choice of now.

When the call is raised, who will you stand beside?
From the river to the sea, hear the cry that freedom makes:
Palestine will be free, from the river to the sea.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

She has fallen, for Present. | 8.2.21

I swear this feeling is here to stay. I swear it is the best way about being human, that we get to experience to share vulnerability, so often we are glanced at by looking glass eyes not enough by sunflowers, we understand the sentiment but we also understand that we have outgrown glass cups. The memory is, that we have lived long enough to know unconditional love enough to have fallen for it’s worth, capable of its respect and caring about it’s safety into our caliber. Our chances now are matched in opportunity, our opportunity is chimed in soft tones of our most lush feelings, we have mastered floating amongst the full moons. — It’s been a while, since I’ve been here. Been thinking, about my reality. — How it’s matched to my dreams now more than ever dreamed, and the fear, of losing sleep has never felt so bliss. — I am bound to my soul first. —She is learning how to walk on her two feet flat against the earth healing, teaching to be present has never looked this dangerously charming.—

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

Her Garden. (Spring is upon us) | 19.5.20

Stop me, I am about to make myself make the biggest best mistake of my life, if I do not take this chance, I am seeing evidence every where its exciting yet it questions my every motive, I am unsure about its presence not only here but here to come, 3 years going to 4 is a long time to have wanted, I’ve learnt a lot since then, changed right before I could even make sense of existence itself, found newness in everything I envisioned, I’ve made my share of mistakes without you too, I’m starting to think in ideas, in details of wholes, worlds, the mechanics of questioning the details the time it takes is its unmeasurable, it never stops-, I am having the best time of my life lone in two worlds but never alone, I know about companionship, what it offers, know that it can taste both bitter sweet the way I like my hunger to more knowledge, food, tug and pull at things enough and you can have a power, there, in that magic plot to change its perception in your mind, which is to say are you okay even today, how do you explain that your thirst for more about worlds is connected to skin ship, maybe even made love more passionate, there is something so breathtakingly wholesome about experiences crafted of knowledge and later also learn to thrive into the threads of intuition, the weight it lifts off your shoulders and takes stresses away from the tail bone, able bodied, like it disappeares so the next conversation with your soul isn’t that much more speechless, that you can listen to your own voice and feel a sense of comfort, a calm of growing gardens so beautifully radiant it gleems with the sky a patient blue talks into your two worlds, words you didn’t know you needed to hear and again you start to feel the less of unknown pains you did not know you carried all these years, then a beautiful thing happens, you’ve made it here, came aliened your two dominant elements, now let the healing really begin.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

4.3.20 | cut me loose.

I still wish we watched our words, we can’t always make sense of how we mean often how we honestly feel though we should at least be careful of how we choose to love, when we meet hearts that break us we are knowing of what it feels to walk away from hurt connections, often our mind will give us a path our heart will struggle to accept it but our body will help us lead the way, I say I haven’t always been this new to love but I must admit my care for it is changing with every heart I met, we get more chances to know about feelings that are still nameless or ache to say out loud and sometimes it feels like you could be the only person waiting for night to fall so you don’t have to leave this sky you have built safe into your home, -My body asks me, where have you been lately? I was worried you forgot about your home here, how you are allowed to take up all the space you want here, we don’t mind the outward vacations we just miss the quality time, I can’t keep pretending even after all these lighthouses, I sigh, sit down close, close my eyes and tell her, yea I know, thank you.

Poetry: Melody of Being Animate

blue headphones in talks of identity (more)| 2.3.19 – 3.3.19

Where are our limits, when we are dissatisfied from the oceans our emotions come in wave thrust along side our thoughts, must they always decide on one, I say I don’t feel equipped enough to answer the future, where do we want to go when we ask these questions that are as mischievous as our twins even the most intelligent parts of our body do not have the answer, what parts of ourselves do we have to set on fire first in order to attempt these cinematic occurrences we have been put up upon, I tell my body we must come to an understanding this is almost childs play, forgetting our souls have roamed us before we even noticed they were here, watching fire burn we’re using words in attempt to signal and spark this conversation a cycle we’ve been plotting enough to brake narrative like, how do you see something if it is simply not there, my mind tells me countless times if you see something that is not there it is also teaching yourself to see more than what is simply visible, my heart teases me about its compassion when the twins are around, using words that are familiar to our palate we’re only ever lost for words by unconscious consciousness, we are still art critics learning and unlearning a cycle of generations, brave enough to fail as many times as our body can resurrect, lessons have no identity blue print, we are all teachers in progression, there is no perfectly put layers to one of the hushest nouns defined, it never really ends it only ever really begins, and this, this is how one of the unsociable inspired ways of more.

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

I am so good at convincing my body about others, when my heart isn’t so invested my mind is this picture map of unsolved people and how it is they will benefit my breath, I find my mind working in myths, myths that are classified unready for this world open to new problems and continually stuttering at love, I don’t have strict titles of heartstrings how they choice and love things like it were their breath too, I am madly in love with love, which is why I feel so bound to the word, why I speak so strongly in and out of its presence you cannot implode on my circumference around its complexities and tell me anything about its wrongs, love has an ambiguous ambiance circling its truth which is why its so simply silly easy to get lost in its clasp, become beastly in its eyes when they flaw, never not this love too, I care in doses of extreme spells when it comes to heartbeats I am an unhealthy addict even if it means my own breath too.

Article #2: “..about how creativity and poetry helped your depression.”

I’d like to start with a sentence I always remind myself.
“Without failure, how do you expect to succeed?”

Being in my early 20’s I am learning courage to take on opportunities with clinical depression being so present in my daily lifestyle. At the age of 10 I was learning how to be an expressive person for myself through poetry. I remember writing poems when I was at my most vulnerable, I learnt to be creative with my words in a sense of being able to be as expressive as I wanted without being judged, because what I wrote was for my eyes only. These words were my comfort and truth.

When I started my very first blog in June 16th 2015 it was also another stepping milestone for me. This platform was where I escaped in order to be heard and understood by my body mentally, emotionally and physically. Poetry taught me to never underestimate the power of a platform for your self care and your own voice. This is how self revelations and taboo considered revolutions are started.

Being a poet, listening to poetry and having a friend that is also a poet who is going through mental health is one of the ways that is helping me the most. Being able to connect with somebody at such an intimate and personal level with my poetry, telling my story about something that is considered so taboo especially in the black community, I truly believe in awareness and taking the right self-care and love for yourself first. For me this has naturally inspired my confidence when I am feeling really depressed. I’m still learning to notice some of my symptoms and being a poet as well as being creative, I’m teaching myself to never apologies for my mental health, ever.

The way I see it, creativity and poetry have helped me positively progress my mental health. I would defiantly say it has taught me how to be patient with it’s intensity at my own pace. Educated me to use my own words, to reach out, as well as tell the world about my mental health journey. This was a huge deal for me, I am generally a very private person.

To crown how much I’ve grown through creativity and poetry it goes hand in hand. To me, being creative means being able to express yourself in a way that is true to you, and poetry is a form of art, another platform to express your creativity. I strongly believe everyone’s story is as powerful as their vulnerable narrative.

Thank You.
Fatma Hussein

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