Dear You,
Friday has been loud as it always is and I am home alone for a while which I am not used to. It's quiet and I can sing as loud as I want to. But there's something that has been weighing me down. It holds me back from the strangest of things and the things I love and the people I love. Most of all, it holds me back from words that I want to give away to you because I do not want them to belong to me. And I could have sat on the stairs staring at the garden and heard the lazy whines of a lawn mower and closed my eyes and envied the sun pouring it's heart out to the rest of the world. Instead I choose to be still. To stand in wake of a journey that I know I could make. But I choose to be still.
It has been strange. It is like I am seeing the world through a black and white photograph. The kind that I am not a part of. A quiet, serene photo of seemingly purple vines crawling up the walls and some very happy people standing beside it or hugging a tree or giving the grass company while it stares at the sunlit skies, some squinting in the sunlight, but smiling. A photo that is tearing on the edges and fading where my eyes scrutinize it the most. A picture of people. Still. Standstill. Smiling. And sunlight. And fading yet. Like seeing the secrets of what Used to be smiling wryly through the present. It is strange. But whatever it is, I do not feel like a part of it.
And most of all, I have been wondering about things and people that I have seen. I have seen things. And people. Upclose. I have seen life and words and people wearing down other people. And I have seen the strongest of facades because I have known the fragility trembling behind them. And I have known exactly what people's lips have moved for in a silent prayer, and I have known their prayers by heart. I have known people's tears closeted in prayer, in prostration. The breaking voice of a burdened throat. And I have known it through people, not through myself. Maybe I will, eventually, because I am to grow. I am to feel. But more than anything else, I have known that there is relief, that prayers are answered and that God lets you know that He is watching. In one way or the other. That there is hope and I promise you, that there is happiness. And I believe in it, because I have waited on it with other people, for other people. And it has come good. For a moment. And in time. But it comes. And I am grateful.
People shouldn't be afraid of giving away. Because when the best of things are given, they find themselves back to you. In different shapes, in different colours, through different people. But they will return. If there is one thing that I am sure of is that God will not forsake me. Have you ever bowed down on the cold sand holding the orange sun on it's horizon and felt the wind bow down with you? Have you started a prayer and felt like you could not stop, that your prayers are infinite? I have. And through them, through the calls of prayers that sound through my neighbourhood and the purple skies that cannot decide which colour to melt into next, I know I am not alone.
I hope people know that they are brilliant. Because they have words and hands and ears. And at any given moment, at any given time, they could speak a kind word, they could smile a kind smile or invest in the Good inside them and everybody else. For brilliance, for greatness - I am infinitely grateful. I am infinitely blessed.
Thank You for listening.
Love,
Me.
Friday has been loud as it always is and I am home alone for a while which I am not used to. It's quiet and I can sing as loud as I want to. But there's something that has been weighing me down. It holds me back from the strangest of things and the things I love and the people I love. Most of all, it holds me back from words that I want to give away to you because I do not want them to belong to me. And I could have sat on the stairs staring at the garden and heard the lazy whines of a lawn mower and closed my eyes and envied the sun pouring it's heart out to the rest of the world. Instead I choose to be still. To stand in wake of a journey that I know I could make. But I choose to be still.
It has been strange. It is like I am seeing the world through a black and white photograph. The kind that I am not a part of. A quiet, serene photo of seemingly purple vines crawling up the walls and some very happy people standing beside it or hugging a tree or giving the grass company while it stares at the sunlit skies, some squinting in the sunlight, but smiling. A photo that is tearing on the edges and fading where my eyes scrutinize it the most. A picture of people. Still. Standstill. Smiling. And sunlight. And fading yet. Like seeing the secrets of what Used to be smiling wryly through the present. It is strange. But whatever it is, I do not feel like a part of it.
And most of all, I have been wondering about things and people that I have seen. I have seen things. And people. Upclose. I have seen life and words and people wearing down other people. And I have seen the strongest of facades because I have known the fragility trembling behind them. And I have known exactly what people's lips have moved for in a silent prayer, and I have known their prayers by heart. I have known people's tears closeted in prayer, in prostration. The breaking voice of a burdened throat. And I have known it through people, not through myself. Maybe I will, eventually, because I am to grow. I am to feel. But more than anything else, I have known that there is relief, that prayers are answered and that God lets you know that He is watching. In one way or the other. That there is hope and I promise you, that there is happiness. And I believe in it, because I have waited on it with other people, for other people. And it has come good. For a moment. And in time. But it comes. And I am grateful.
People shouldn't be afraid of giving away. Because when the best of things are given, they find themselves back to you. In different shapes, in different colours, through different people. But they will return. If there is one thing that I am sure of is that God will not forsake me. Have you ever bowed down on the cold sand holding the orange sun on it's horizon and felt the wind bow down with you? Have you started a prayer and felt like you could not stop, that your prayers are infinite? I have. And through them, through the calls of prayers that sound through my neighbourhood and the purple skies that cannot decide which colour to melt into next, I know I am not alone.
I hope people know that they are brilliant. Because they have words and hands and ears. And at any given moment, at any given time, they could speak a kind word, they could smile a kind smile or invest in the Good inside them and everybody else. For brilliance, for greatness - I am infinitely grateful. I am infinitely blessed.
Thank You for listening.
Love,
Me.
6 comments:
Masha'Allah. I can't help but thinking how beautifully write for your age. It's exceptional, it's wonderful. I don't even have the right adjectives.
Maybe it's the beauty in you.
God bless you, Aaisha!
^ I love you. <3 *Le dinosaur dance of happiness*
You write really beautifully, i could imagine each scenario wonderfully with each line :) God bless you
That's why I don't like commenting late. People come before me & take all that "YouwritesogoodthatwhenIreadyourpoetry&proseIfellinlovewithyoubecauseyou'resimplyawesome&Ican'tsaythewordsthatcandescribethewayyouwritebecauseitisundescribable"
Yeah, that.
@Arfa: Thank you for dropping by. <3 God bless you.
@Daniyal: That made me smile big. =D
This my friend is beautiful! And believe it or not, it echoes my thoughts, perfectly. I can relate to this collection of thoughts, quite accurately, so to speak!
Keep writing Aaisha, you have a beautiful heart :)
Peace
-P.S: Thanks for following my blog ^^
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