keeeptalking

October 18, 2017

A story of Great Love

Filed under: Poetry,Religion and society — by Zuhair @ 2:07 am
Tags: , , ,

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There was no existence before You –

Only darkness.

Incomparable, unfathomable,

enveloping, blinding,

selfish, hollow darkness.

Looking back, I see nothing there

but distress and despair.

Until amidst the sorrow,

I began to search, hoping to borrow

from You – a little, just a little –

but You delivered in immenseness.

An unmatchable delivery,

so overwhelming, it astonished me,

clothing me in a flame so rare,

a light too bright for the plain eye to bear

and as I neared You

by a palm,

You came to me by an arm,

reducing the distance in between,

a distance there should never have been.

Oh! How I wished I had found You sooner;

how I wished I had You earlier.

But comfort I find in the faith

that You will forever be

as You have been before,

and You will never abandon me.

So, I pray

to You,

 

The Maker of my fate,

The Creator of my soul.

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September 13, 2015

The names

Filed under: Poetry,Religion and society,Sociopolitics — by Zuhair @ 2:46 pm
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I know Aylan Kurdi

and the others who came

but didn’t live,

to see the end of this game.

Game makers,

in your fancy suits,

The floor is red

but you wear boots.

I know my sisters,

Noor, Raneem and Najla.

and my brothers, Baalousha and Aslan,

Almataouq, Aashoor and Jumaa.

Game makers,

you cannot run forever,

the lives you have taken

will be avenged by another.

I cannot join them

but I know the freedom fighters,

young Ahed Tamimi,

Rachel Corrie and the others.

I have no weapons with me;

I have everything to lose

but I also have my prayers and my love,

and I have my words and my views.

If that is all I have,

then that is what I will give,

because they are fighting death

while I live.

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Image: Retrieved from http://www.worldbulletin.net on 2015.

September 6, 2015

A place to go

Filed under: Poetry — by Zuhair @ 2:31 pm
Tags: ,

Let us disappear

into the lush forests of nature,

the magnificent canyons

with deep corridors;

 the green islands

surrounded by turquoise waters;

or the grey and red beaches of Santorini,

to watch the orange sun as it rises and sets patiently.

Let us vanish

into the giant walls

of lost civilizations,

China’s grassland and mountain

that lie around the giant dragon,

into Europe’s fire and ice,

the volcanic islands,

as they slowly sink,

or the coral reefs that guard them, red, blue and pink.

Let us dance

in Mexico, amongst the crystals

buried inside their caves,

the still blue lakes

and their green neighbours,

the cotton castles of Denizli;

the springs and pools of Turkey,

or with the green, grey and azure of Lika,

the waterfalls of Croatia.

Let us frolic

with the migrating monarch butterflies,

the living jewels

of Socotra,

or the emerald green,

turquoise and aquamarine

that play with the pink and blue marble of South America,

or the orange and white daisies of Namibia.

Let us go where lovers go;

be but be invisible,

Let us pray and let us play

Let us be but be unseeable.

namaqualand daisies

Image: Retrieved from 66squarefeet.blogspot.com. on 06/09/2015.

August 15, 2015

A few lines of hate

Filed under: Poetry,Society — by Zuhair @ 7:29 pm
Tags: , ,

So great an energy travels through me,

defying you, you vile establishment,

plagued with stereotype,

designed to control, seeking punishment;

greedy to determine right from wrong

yet ignorant of the value of good things,

and oh! How I have yearned for so long

to escape you. Me, you sting.

So great a hope travels through me,

in rebellion against you,

in search of my spirit,

that you so hungrily sought to destroy

through deprivation of love;

through seizure

of happiness

and destruction of adventure.

So great a life possesses me

in my shunning away

of you and your wickedness –

Oh! Every day long owing to this, every day-

against you, you vile creature,

and your hunger for sadness

and your impatience with emotion,

and your allergies to happiness.

And no. The fault is not yours.

It is theirs, those loathsome beasts.

It is they who poison you,

so we blister too.

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Amal Ahmed Albaz

Journalist; Poet; Speaker. Superman’s got his cape around his neck; I've got my hijab around my head.

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