Those creases in the cloth that
Lies upon your shoulders.
Hidden in the
Fabric of your perfection.
A smile, you smile, of
Once upon a times and
Could have beens.
A smile so meek, so tender; a
A grimace of hurt for you are
Walking on glass.
Isn’t life just so
Your eyes tell your story;
Shattered hope and
Mark your journey.
And you are so tired;
Often I’d wondered about it before.
The emptiness inside of me.
I sought to fill it. Yet didn’t know how.
Was their such a length to which I could not go? I doubt it.
Countless nights of awakening in strange surroundings.
Luxury, earthly indulgence.
Down it in one, and then here comes another.
Intoxicate to the mind’s content.
Drown out the fears, the loneliness, the grief.
Fly by on the river of make belief.
Blare out my song of arrogance to drown the harsh sounds of my heartbeats.
Quiet, yet deafening.
How could something be so painful?
Dare i wish for more?
To hide the insecurities and walk out with
the smug smile on my face.
Being smothered in lipstick
With eyes nearly dead out, heavy-lidded with makeup
and the Short skirt that made them all gape…
Go on, girl. Work that power.
Yet I wished for more.
All the attention from the opposite gender.
Beauty. Admiration. Jealousy.
Well let me tell you a little secret.
It wasn’t as fabulous as it may seem.
To be called “beautiful” by a random male, when I myself don’t know the meaning.
When I know that I’m not beautiful. And they know not what beauty means.
I was little more than just a toy. My purpose was the same.
Live to please those who want me.
Yet wish to have my own desires.
Yet I wished for more.
What was once upon a time but a small little chink in the fabric of my perfection.
Day by day I watched it develop into the gaping hole it soon became.
To eat away at me.
Devour my existence.
Stand by and watch me cry the silent tears f frustration into my pillow.
Ignore the calls from all of my suitors
And wish for something more.
Tease me. Mock me. Insult me.
What was I doing here?
An empty vase. Yet to be filled with flowers.
Sweet scented roses of the power of Existence,
To sit there. Take deep breaths.
Look into myself and savour the silence.
Feel the overwhelming sense of being.
And know there was a reason.
Put out the cigarette. Watch the stub as it withers away.
Once ashes flew. Now the cig is dead.
I needed it more than ever.
This reason of being. This, truth. I needed to know that I would be okay.
To know why, I was here.
Because, face it, the world was a hideous place.
Disgusting, as a matter of fact.
I needed to find my reason .
Why I was here.
In a place like this.
No intoxication could help me find the way.
Because there was more to the path then cheap hotel rooms
and cheap cigarettes
and bottles of vodka.
The path was one to guide me.
And that was when it happened.
I opened my eyes.
They’d moved next door a while back.
Or so I’d thought.
Watched their women walk out clad in “burqas,” they called them.
Watch them lower their gaze.
And be oppressed.
Well they were, weren’t they?
I’d watched them suspiciously, out the window.
The window behind my dressing table
Where I’d spent so much of my time, preparing.
Preparing to lie yet again to the world.
I did not realise. Then the truth came.
How could i say these women were oppressed
When I myself was so oppressed?
Oppression beyond the need of males.
Yet I was so alone.
Oppression that ranged within my own mind.
I could not see then that
Beauty was in modesty
And modesty was beautiful
Oppression was far. These women were free
And they were not trapped by what they looked like
And what they wore
Because it was not important to them And everything that they were
was not on show
And they were judged by their intellect and passion and mind and inner beauty.
They escaped the shell,
You could not judge a book by its cover if the cover was not there at all.
Then realisation hit me.
I found myself in front of their house,
after so much hesitation.
Heard my heart beat fast in my chest, then my throat.
Knocked on their door.
With bated breath.
Watched something beautiful unfold before my eyes.
I found at their house, or they at mine.
Regularly met them.
Savoured their sweet company.
Pondered upon their beautiful souls.
Wished one day I was the same.
That I could participate in their intellectual conversations,
sit their with dignity and drop the cig in my hand.
respect myself the way they did.
BEcome what they were.
Slowly a truth began to emerge.
A truth so powerful, i could not tell them.
Longing to break free of the trials of life, by embracing them fully.
I dropped my cig.
Put on some jeans.
A long dress for a change. Tied up my hair, wiped off the makeup.
Took off the heels, and put on some flats.
Not yet what I was going to be,
But no longer the tyrant I once was.
Not yet free, but loosened in bonds.
I knew what I needed to do.
I ended up here, in the end.
The journey, so long, so tiring.
In the eyes of the women around me, i could see such a welcoming.
When they told me why they were so free, i could at last see their reasons.
They had Allah.
Allah had them.
It was becoming so clear now.
I listened to them, nights on nights.
Watched them pray with such devotion.
Five times a day, they would submit.
So often i would feel tears on my cheeks,
sliding down my face.
it was quieting down.
I longed for what they had.
They did not need a man t tell them that they were beautiful.
They knew it themselves.
Today i embarked on my newest adventure.
I, am now a superhero, haha.
The cape of mine, it is wrapped around my forehead.
I am no longer on view.
No longer oppressed.
Rather, I am now free.
Today i am beautiful.
Today, my heart found peace.
I have Allah. I have found Him, at last.
And it was meant to be.
I cry, sometimes.
I was so blind.
The truth was so close. Sheer frustration.
But I am here now.
He is with me.
Redemption, at long last.
I have the deepest affection for intellectual conversations. The ability to just sit and talk. About love, about life, about anything, about everything. To sit under the moon with all the time in the world, the full-speed train that is our lives slowing to a crawl. Bound by no obligations, barred by no human limitations. To speak without regret or fear of consequence. To talk for hours and about what’s really important in life.
The most beautiful blessing we have been given as humans, is the chance to repent.
As long as you have not met your demise and as long as the sun has not risen from the West, the door of repentance is open.
What are you waiting for? Repent.
And tears of peace slide down your cheeks when you realise.
You were never, ever alone in your struggle.