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Eve Sep 2021
Firdous was what I wanted to name a daughter I hoped to bear,
After marrying the most perfect man and making myself the most perfect wife,
In a nice house with walls that springs delight and
With many specialized rooms only waiting for the memories I hoped for us to make.

Only to find myself in the lavatory within the office,
With a pregnancy test that glows happy with positive,
And I should be happy,
I know I should be -for I may finally be able to bear my precious Firdous,
Oh precious precious Firdous.
But with what husband?
With what house? with what walls of Delight?
And with which rooms to fill with her laughter and tears and....

What do I do? Dear lord what do I do?
Do I ****** my chance of this happiness?
Do I ****** the bliss of the future I dream of?
Or do I disappoint my mother- the one who bore me?
Do I choose to bring my precious in a world I'm yet to figure?
And I'm yet to find my place in?
Should I curse my baby with the burden of having no father?
Should I curse myself with the burden of a child that could suffer?
Because of having a mother that failed to provide efficiently?
What do I do dear lord?
Should I condem myself to hell or should I condem my beautiful baby-
unborn and unnamed,
to the hells of this world as an illegitimate with miserable likes of a mother like me.

-fir.m ♡
I'm pregnant.
He's an ex.
My mother values the talks and walks of society more than she does anything else.
I value my mother 😓
What do I do?
Eve Sep 2021
I suppose I should be happy,
My God gave me a blessing by taking away my blessing,
The blessing I was so confused about.
My dear, my precious Firdous.

I suppose I must be happy,
Every inch of my brain is telling me to be happy,
But why is there a ringing in my ears;
And so much weight on my chest,
It's so **** aggravating.

I suppose I could be happy, except that I;
I demand silence,
I demand peace,
I demand anything but to feel like this-
Worthless, insignificant, trash.

I suppose I am happy,
To be the puppet of a universe filled with
So much standard anomalies...
That the universe did not curse me to ****** my own kin...
that I didn't curse my precious with a life...

Oh the little things we tell ourselves to make it easier to live for another day,
Oh but I suppose, I suppose its necessary.
It's **** necessary.

Goodbye my precious. ♡

-fir.m
I had a miscarriage today. I can't believe that a week ago I was baffled with what decision to make and now at this moment, with that precious no longer inside me, I know exactly what I want/ed. The universe sure knows to make a mockery of us and our insignificant lives. And don't dare say that life is significant when basically nothing is in our control and free will is but an anceint lie.
Najwa Kareem Jun 16
Moving fast
in front of
Self-reliant
Self-determined
I’m the queen of this little persons’ movement
My hair in black
flowing from DC’s winds
and with each step of solidarity
I raise my inner voice
I raise my outer voice
imitating slogans heard
from my Mom and Dad’s lips
and from that of other Moms and Dads

Fast forward 18 years
and fervently, I say,
Thank you, dear parents
How hard it was for you to get us to the protest
How sacrificial
so that I could yell,
FREE, FREE, FREE Palestine

And now I rewind to my a-bit-past-toddler age years
Joined today with my kiddo martyred friends of Gaza
in their heavenly sweat and blood
Yaaaay
they do smell of The Firdous
You see I know what genocide means
because my blood family members’ conversations taught me
and I think it were my Mom who dressed me
in Al-Aqsa kids' gear
My hair in black
and my legs stride
in this mini peoples CEASEFIRE NOW march
flowing like the blood of all too many
in The Holy Land

We yell in this mini us movement march
We chant under the open sunny sky
We raise our voices
For other kids
who haven't
but an open air prison
and even worse, now

Our tomorrow
is soon tomorrow
and our Palestinian friends today
have been taken away
I'm sad for them
My nerves are hurt
so much so
my black hairs covering my head
are raised
so much so
they're yellin
CEASEFIRE NOW
CEASEFIRE NOW
CEASEFIRE NOW
and they're yellin
FREE PALESTINE ONCE AND FOR ALL
so that the only yellin’ my black hairs will do
are for things that kids like me are supposed to
yell for
yell for our birthday parties
for cake and ice cream
for happy times on swings at the park
for running wild on open grass at picnics and in masjids’ backyards
and for bigs hugs and kisses from our loved ones

You see
little me and all the others out here
want the same for children in Palestine
We want them happy like us
We want them free
We want them free to move
Like my hair in black
flowing from DC’s winds
Like my legs stride
But instead
I see all these kids in Gaza like me screaming
from the sounds of bombs dropping
I see all these kids like me covered in blood
lying dead on the ground
I hear all these kids like me loudly crying
because they’re hungry and they're thirsty
I hear all these kids like me begging
for the world to help them

And so today
this mini peoples CEASEFIRE NOW march
IS the world
and black hairs yellin’ now
and black hairs will keep yellin’
for Palestine
until all kids like me
are free
On 11/24/23 at 10:18 am, I was in the grocery store, and I saw from the window, a lady wearing a keffiyeh walking by outside with a man beside her pushing a stroller with a baby in it (I presume their child). I quickly ran out of the store, and said, Free Palestine at the same time giving her a thumbs up! I quickly told her that I had just written this poem. Thank you for your solidarity, I said to her as a farewell. She replied smiling, We’ve got to stick together.
Najwa Kareem Jun 16
Moving fast
in front of
Self-reliant
Self-determined
I’m the queen of this little persons’ movement

My hair in black
flowing from DC’s winds
and with each step of solidarity
I raise my inner voice
I raise my outer voice
imitating slogans heard
from my Mom and Dad’s lips
and from that of other Moms and Dads

Fast forward 18 years
and fervently, I say,
Thank you, dear parents
How hard it was for you to get us to the protest
How sacrificial
so that I could yell,
FREE, FREE, FREE Palestine

And now I rewind to my a-bit-past-toddler age years
Joined today with my kiddo martyred friends of Gaza
in their heavenly sweat and blood
Yaaaay
they do smell of The Firdous
You see I know what genocide means
because my blood family members’ and other immediate family members' conversations taught me
and their actions to stop it has shown me
and I think it were my Mom who dressed me
in Al-Aqsa kids' gear
My hair in black
and my legs stride
in this mini peoples CEASEFIRE NOW march
flowing like the blood of all too many
in The Holy Land

We yell in this mini us movement march
We chant under the open sunny sky
We raise our voices
For other kids
who haven't
but an open air prison
and even worse, now

Our tomorrow
is soon tomorrow
and our Palestinian friends today
have been taken away
I'm sad for them
My nerves are hurt
so much so
my black hairs covering my head
are raised
so much so
they're yellin
CEASEFIRE NOW
CEASEFIRE NOW
CEASEFIRE NOW
and they're yellin
FREE PALESTINE ONCE AND FOR ALL
so that the only yellin’ my black hairs will do
are for things that kids like me are supposed to
yell for
yell for our birthday parties
for cake and ice cream
for happy times on swings at the park
for running wild on open grass at picnics and in masjids’ backyards
and for bigs hugs and kisses from our loved ones

You see
little me and all the others out here
want the same for children in Palestine
We want them happy like us
We want them free
We want them free to move
Like my hair in black
flowing from DC’s winds
Like my legs stride
But instead
I see all these kids in Gaza like me screaming
from the sounds of bombs dropping
I see all these kids like me covered in blood
lying dead on the ground
I hear all these kids like me loudly crying
because they’re hungry and they're thirsty
I hear all these kids like me begging
for the world to help them

And so today
this mini peoples CEASEFIRE NOW march
IS the world
and black hairs yellin’ now
and black hairs will keep yellin’
for Palestine
until all kids like me
are free
6/15/25  Father's Day!
On 11/24/23 at 10:18 am, I was in the grocery store, and I saw from the window, a lady wearing a keffiyeh walking by outside with a man beside her pushing a stroller with a baby in it (I presume their child). I quickly ran out of the store, and said, Free Palestine at the same time giving her a thumbs up! I quickly told her that I had just written this poem. Thank you for your solidarity, I said to her as a farewell. She replied smiling, We’ve got to stick together.

6/16/25
I am taking time now to add the following as time ran out yesterday so I wasn't able to include it.

This poem is a Father's Day gift for Imam Muhammad al-Asi and his son-in-law, the husband of his 2nd daughter/2nd born child!

'Black hairs', the child who is speaking in this poem authored by me is Imam Muhammad al-Asi's 2nd daughter's/2nd born child's first daughter and his son-in-law's first daughter by Imam Muhammad al-Asi's 2nd daughter/2nd born child.

I end with some words of my Father said in 2020 (when searching in my draft folder for this and a poem to follow (most of it written in November 2023), I came across an email that I had written housing his words, "Take your children to a protest or rally. Let them hear and see what's going on from a safe location. Let them see and learn. Help them become concerned global citizens in a world begging for help and relief. Ameen!"

Sincerely,
Najwa

Solidarity knows no borders; it's the heartbeat of a world against oppression.
-BodezArt

"And it's the heartbeat of this little girl."

"Al hamdulilah."

— The End —