I was at my uncle’s house,
new to the city and just a teenager.

One afternoon, someone’s shoe was stolen from a mosque—
an incident I didn’t know about,
and I hadn’t even visited that mosque at the time.

That night, I went to the mosque to pray.
As I prepared for my prayer,
someone grabbed my collar
and accused me of being the thief.

They judged me by my poor appearance
and the fact that I wore similar-looking shoes,
which I had bought from a store, not stolen.

That day, my self-esteem about my looks was destroyed,
and my social anxiety began.

A mob gathered proudly, ready to punish me.
The noise was so loud
that no one could hear my pleas of innocence.

Fortunately, the call for prayer saved me—
temporarily.

The mob decided to beat me after the prayer.
They took me to the third floor,
made me stand by a large window to pray,
and surrounded me so I couldn’t escape.

For a moment, I thought about jumping out the window,
but I wasn’t brave enough.

Trembling in fear, I prayed to God,
begging for salvation
because I was innocent.

After the prayer,
as they prepared to attack me,
I spotted my cousin in the distance.

I ran to him and explained everything.
He confronted the accuser
and forced an apology out of them.

They said sorry,
and I forgave them,
but their apology couldn’t heal my shattered self-esteem
or erase my newfound social anxiety.

Even now, whenever I see a thief, robber, or hijacker
caught and beaten by a mob,
I feel deeply sad.

Even if they committed a crime,
they deserve proper justice
and the right to be heard.

I understand some people vent their frustrations
by punishing criminals,
but mob violence isn’t justice.

A mob can never establish true justice.

My plea to them is this:
at least, don’t feel proud about beating someone,
even if they’re a criminal.

She stands at the Well.
But she is not alone.

A voice speaks—
"You have no husband, do you?
Not just one—not two—but many.
And still, you are thirsty."

She freezes.
Because the voice is true.
Because she is seen.

But she resists.

"It’s not just the men…"
Her hands tighten.
"There is another ‘her’ inside me.

She fights. She *****.
She wants destruction and hunger and chaos.
She doesn’t listen. She doesn’t stop.
She is the one who makes me want to throw myself from a cliff
just so I don’t have to deal with her anymore."

"She’s gonna do something crazy," she whispers.
"And I’ll be gone. Like I was never even here."

The voice does not flinch.
"Then let Me meet her."

Silence.

A storm brews behind her ribs.

The "her" within her stirs—
The dark one. The wounded one.
She crouches behind the rocks, clutching her shame.

The other "her"—the one who still believes—
She wades into the water, hands lifted, reaching for salvation.

One moves toward the Light.
One remains in the shadows.

"You see, Lord? She does not belong to me.
She belongs to the dark."

A pause.

"No," The Spirit says.
"She belongs to Me."

The rocks begin to shake.
The water ripples.

Behind the trees, the dark "her" presses her back against the bark,
watching the water, watching the other "her" wade in.
She wants to believe.
She wants to step forward.

But she remembers.

The love of man is dishonest.
The world swallows and devours.
Every time she has trusted, she has been burned.

"The water will steal me," she whispers.
"The light will dissolve me. I will disappear."

But the Spirit does not demand.
It does not chase.
It does not force.

It only knows.

"You are afraid that surrender will erase you," the Spirit says.
"But you have already been erased."

The words cut deep.
Because they are true.

"You live divided.
One ‘her’ in the shadows.
One ‘her’ in the light.
Neither whole.
Neither free."

The dark "her" clenches her fists.
"You don’t understand her," she spits.
"She needs me."

"No," the Spirit says.
"She needs  Me."

The trees begin to shake.
The wind rises.

"Come, little one.
I have been waiting for you."

She takes a step forward.
The trees do not stop her.
The rocks do not hold her.

The dark "her" and the one who waits—the one who believes—
They are not enemies.
They are not strangers.

They are two halves of the same soul.

And Love—
Love has come to bring them both home.

I am someone who—
Anyone can rely on,
A shoulder to cry on,
A sail to carry them on,
Through the worst of times,
Any time.
But when it’s my turn
To face the tide,
There’s no one by my side.

I have a heart—
That can forgive anyone and anything,
Any number of times,
Over and over.
But never once could it forgive,
If it was I who made the mistake.

It’s not easy to move on,
from the last 12 years.
It’s not easy to erase them,
the memories you imprinted on me.

I know you’re a better man now,
but does that make up for everything?

I can’t forget the nights
I was sobbing in my room,
all alone, with no one to turn to.
I can’t forget the sound of your voice,
as it echoed through my room—
so loud, I put my hands over my ears,
yet I still heard it, loud and true.

I can’t forget the sound of broken dishes,
as you threw them across the room.
The sound of my favorite mirror shattering,
as you punched through it,
and turned your hand—and my heart—
red and blue.

I can’t forget the late-night hospital visits,
the stitches, the injections,
the crying and screaming—
all because you wanted that **** high,
the one you got from your bottles,
the one you wanted so much more than me.

I say that I have forgiven you,
although in my heart, that’s far from the truth.
I don’t know if I’ll ever even be able to,
not after you made my best years
so nightmarish,
that I shudder when I think of them.
I shudder when I think of you.
I wonder if you shudder too.

Two screws in a week have turned loose.  
Upholstery? It's needin' a boost.  
So off to the carpenter's place,  
A quick calming break  
    From our daily rat-race.

The faithful go daily,  
    you know,  
For it keeps their spirit  
    aglow.  
Though weekly's required  
    to stay ruddy and clear,  
Pray for those that come
    just once a year.

Just as the chair  
    starts ever to fade,  
Our soul needs its care  
    to keep it well-made.  
A heart, left untouched,  
    becomes cloudy, unclear,  
But the carpenter's polish  
    wipes cloudy tears.

For the carpenter can fix in a jiff  
A heart that has hardened too stiff;  
And when soul's window pane  
Has grown cloudy again,  
    he'll wash it and call it a gift!

how we broke
how we broke
how we broke
we were

we were made
no

we were born
we were born made
made
for each other
like the flower
blooms
made
blooms
made
blooms, made, to bloom
from its seed
the formula of life was written
and you were my blooming
you opened my eyes to the light
to the aridness of the dark
but
I saw you
linger
even as you taught me hope
how you toed the shadows
thumbed the seams
of life
to give death
a peek

and I shuddered
for I know it then
how I loved you
that's why
I learned to love goodness
for I remembered how
every time
the darkness spat you out
the blood
was too much to clean
it had to be burned
prayed away
commanded
warred with
your blood or his, as well...

I learned to love the light
but in time
I would learn
I loved the light
so much
for saving you
that I
learned you into forgetfulness
into regret
I learned you into spite
as, despite how I loved the light
because of you
I learned, I only loved the light
in the end
the darkness ate all that made you
visible
to my heart
visible

but I still knew you
knew you
I still knew
you were all I ever wanted
dreamed of

even in loneliness
abandonment
even in the arms of a thousand lovers
fragrances beyond aroma
beyond memory
beyond touch, I felt them
and in the midst
of the tumult
the waves of their sating
the kaleidoscope of *******
a thousand sighs
a thousand hot, sopping shivers
a thousand moans, all whispering,
tenderly, my name,
all in your voice
your voice
in your voice they chorused
and I was abloom
with the hearing of you
in their thousand harmonies of one you,
I loved you, all over again
and realized how,
though I love the light
the darkness in it,
what brings contrast
meaning to all the joys of life
what brings purpose
is how you, in your darkness
are my darkness - that you do not complete me,
you empower my reason to live
and I see you, unliving,
never knowing love
as it is the curse of your being
when you are with me,
you forget the dark
you forget the pain of what awaits in it
and you cling to me,
like breath in the lungs
like blood in the veins
our clinging is,
       what IS

and you become the light
you become it, as I
become the dark
to give you breath
to give you force in your heart
that it may be again
that it
your heart
may beat again
I become the dark
I lose the light
that you may see me
beyond the glare,
catch a glimpse of me, again
for when my light is lost
I know you will abandon me
call me cursed,
unholy, for what need a man
a thousand holy ululations of wives enthralled
to hear his wife
scream in the dark
that she has lost herself to dark princes
who ever would be princes
for kings they never became
and never would become
patricide of the light, they earned their keep
as princes
fallen, with you they played,
in your womb, and your blood they drank
that's why,
a thousand was plenty enough, to drown out
the sense of loss of you, from the abandon of me
that you purchased your pleasures
I made love, made marriage, made home,
with a thousand women, as still, you were never lost to me

still you were what bloomed again
with every peace found
I kept a part for you
every new light I loved
I loved you greater
I love you still
I love you as the time of day loves itself
right in the moment
in the present
where, when we first met
first kissed
first made our way, across the altar
made love, in those presents
I am present
with you, your presence is with me
I know you
love you, in the midst of our present
our every present
you are the gift of living
in my heart, my soul
my spirit,
the morning birds are your laughter
your touch
your will to love me, despite all we've suffered
you are eternal
and I am nothing
if not faithful
to a woman who has never been
what anything is worth
giving up on
for
or to, when you are that weight, on the scale
I am the balance that never tips against you
I am that one flesh, weighted with you
for to abandon you, would be to not love myself
and so, that that I love myself, has me loving you,
I wait for when you, yourself, will love you, too,
for maybe, if I'm lucky, for the first time, you will
finally, begin to love me back, for the first time...

... maybe

The remaining of your lifeless body
Were some vivid images printed on my eyelids
some distorted memory tapes deforming in my brain

That night was a nightmare
I never woke up from
Every morning i still pinch myself
I bite my thumb
hoping the night is never too firm
hoping the morning comes

It's Killing me how
I'm starting to forget your face
Your glasses resting over your peaceful gaze
Your smile and innocent laugh brining life grace

I miss you and my annoying chats
I miss us playing with stray cats
I wish we wore your 20th birthday's hats

I miss such a young pure soul
I miss you as a whole
And i don't forgive the world for taking you
I don't forgive myself for every second not filling my eyes with you
Before you flew into the void of blue

I wish i said my goodbyes
Before it was too late
Before i knew that that night
such angel dies

Lord,
you tell me to serve you,
but I haven't heard even a whisper
about this path and purpose
you intend me to pursue.

God said
“love your enemies”
but he didn't tell us
what to do when it hurts,
when a piece of your heart it attached to every kind word and gesture
that then gets picked apart
and shredded into shards that shoot
right back at me.

Our Father affirms
how we must forgive our trespassers,
but he didn't tell us how to repair the damage,
how to stop being taken advantage of,
or how to stand up for ourselves.
He didn't tell us how to end the the cycles,
just how to continue them
by turning over your other cheek
and not withhold even your tunic.

Jesus preached
about how we should love our neighbors as ourselves,
but he didn't say what to do when you’re full of self-hate
or when nobody cares that you care about them
because they're too busy trying to get someone else's approval.

He also said
"Don't let your hearts be troubled”
but he didn't say what to do
when they don't listen to you,
when there's so much at stake,
when your world caves in,
when you're cast aside like dust
but the world still wants to much,
or when you're just not happy and you don't know why everything is so hard,

or when you're wide awake at night,
knowing
the ones you care about the most
could be on the verge of breaking
their skin.

Did I ever hide? The fact remains
The gold here is bought by blood.
Cherries drawn in the same carmine stains
And nothing they all say is good.

I will take my part of the beetroot:
I cried at the dawn of your cause.
You saw it fit to pick up and uproot,
And we strike and dig in our claws.

I stay underground, you know? Not all:
Some claim that I am without grace -
United we stand, parted we fall,
We still share a name and a face.

Kindness was never able to ****,
And cruelty cannot buy love,
And so I stand on my windowsill
And wait from a sign from above.

We all are destined to lose something
In this crazy and needless war;
Love and compassion stay on the wing,
You can't stand my sight any more,

So I stood and asked your forgiveness,
For striking you, my dear sister,
Though I can't cure all of their illness:
Freedom lives when all have kissed her.