I'm sorry; I don't mean to pry.
But could someone please tell me why
it's so embarrassing to cry?
How many times have we said "I'm sorry"
only to say "babe, don't worry"
when it's the other way around?
Why do we have empathy for the wolves
when we cry for the same reasons?
Why are we so afraid to show our feelings
that we make up lies, like,
"it's the changing of the seasons"?
The behavior of a generation
won't change overnight.
But we need to start working
on being comfortable with expressing ourselves when something's not right.

Let me be clear: it will never be easy.
But it can get better.
But only if you give yourself a chance.
A chance to breathe. To grieve.
To love yourself.
To believe that things can get better.
A chance to believe in yourself.
In the end, it does come down to you
to take the first step.
But once you do, take your time.
You have the rest of your life to follow through.

That was my husband,
He rarely said "I love you,"
But his actions showed what I meant to him.
He was always by my side,
Kind, gentle and reassuring,
Be it a visit to a doctor,
A family feud,
Or hassle with my in-laws.
Though he was not for candlelight dinner,
He took me frequently to dinner, picnic and movies,
But to the ones I enjoyed.
He did all the DIY work around the house,
Before I knew something needed to be repaired it was already done.
After early morning and evening prayers I enjoy reciting Quran, duas and talking to Allah,
So he would help me with sending the children to school,
And bed at night,
Though he never helped with cooking or housework,
He lived for his family,
And when he died,
For me it was as if my computer had crashed and I had to start all over again.
I never knew the house needed so much repair,
Nor so many bills needed to be settled,
Or where to shop for groceries.
19/12/2021

Are like gems,
Learn where to hide them,
Or where to show them.
17/12/2021

I wondered how i'd got so old
How the time had gone
How my bones had gotten cold
Before my time had come

I wondered why my eyes they flickered
Before the written word
Why it seemed my mind was liquored
And my vision blurred

I wondered why the steps had grown
steeper in incline
why they creak'd, me joints and bones,
and moved like slow bovine

I wondered who that old man was
with grey whiskers and goatee
a venerable Santa Claus
that winked from mirror to me

then i recalled the passing years
i'd left my youth behind
in veil of laughter and of tears
and now decrepit mind

so i'll paint a smile on senility
pretend i'm glad 'n fine
i'll drink to youth's virility
and close eyes to my decline

defeated my mom turned to my dad and asked,

“what did we do wrong?”

He sighed

“I really don’t know.”


this is the third time i’ve heard this conversation in the past month

I look myself in the mirror and ask myself the same thing

That which once glistened
and glimmered
now digs into my skin
leaving me breathless.

The marks of you left behind on me
forming scars, bruises and blisters.

I used to be enamored with the shine of you,
when I first came to know you, to learn of you.

But all that glitters is not gold
and I knew that you had no value
just another cheap imitation.

Something so far from the real thing
but desperately trying its hardest to be.

l.v.s and IM