Mama,

I couldn’t relate when all your breath fell into the pit of your stomach and refused to find its way back up into your lungs no matter how deep or how hard you tried to breathe it back up. 

I know now even though that knowing is minuscule compared to yours. Still, now I can relate. 

Mama,

I couldn’t relate when your brain was taken hold by irrationality and squeezed into the prison of fear and worry. 

The knowing that this was the beginning of the end. The things you would miss. What would become of the world you created, the children you raised, the grandchildren you adored with all your might? I know mama. I know. 

Yuma habibti Yuma. 

My suffering is NIL in comparison to yours but now I know. 

The opening of the shell of our selves.

The baring of our bodies so that we can be healed. The cutting open, the scars, the exhaustion, though mine can’t compare to yours, alas, I have the familiarity and my heart aches for you more than it ever had with the pounding of the knowledge of the poking and prodding.

I am more tired for you than I have ever had the ability of discerning. 

My eyes have been opened Yuma. I am more awake than I could have ever imagined. 

I SEE the flowers. I TASTE the flavors. I am captivated by the grip of life. 

Mama,

I couldn’t relate because I didn’t know. 

I knew only that I loved you. I knew only of my own dismay of my own sorrow. I knew only how to interpret my thoughts, my feelings, my, my, my. 

I could only draw a conclusion based on my own contemplation but now I know. 

Habibti yuma, now I know. 

Finally I have digested some, only some of you. It is peculiar indeed. 

                              -m

Burn incense 

it makes sense

Music is rockin 

Mama is rockin

The wine has been served

Up goes my nerve 

And I’m sitting here writing this down. 

The gray sky is covering the world that I know and it’s dreary and eerie and ever so cold. 

I embrace the feeling because it’s beautiful and it speaks to my soul. It speaks to my soul. 

Will you fall into the magic with me?

Can you let the serenity be free?

Can you let yourself be a part of the Joy you have in your heart? surrender to the moment it’s the only one you got

It doesn’t take a lot. The

street lights are on.

There’s a mist about the air. It’s subtle. I find myself getting lost in it. No rebuttal.

The smoke from the incense is playing with me. Lavender patchouli and red wine and me. Isn’t life grand? Say you understand. ….And music

-somber days 

rainy haze

raindrops play 

whimsy

-depicting trees

at ease

and too, the leaves 

magically

-brilliant hues

sky and earth 

clouds burst 

quench thirst

-obstinate

lightning bolt

thunder jolt

wind afloat

unpredictably 

-rainbow

aglow

pot of gold? 

mischievously 

-m

Thinking about what to write in this real deep place right now and these are the words I put down…

An upside down smile is a frown. 

All thoughts are circular. 

My neighbor just distracted me but in a beautiful way. He’s playing his guitar, alone. 

White wine will do but red wine is preferred. 

Listening to devil woman. 

The wind is subtly rolling in. 

It’s muggy but the wind is mildly cool. 

Why do I keep wanting to move? 

I’ll have to delve into that one a bit deeper. Also why should i delve? I wanna move. 

That’s my groove, I suppose. 

My new favorite word is “fantastic” but “groovy is my favorite.”

Nirvana In Bloom is on now. Holy cow! He was amazing! Or should I say fantastic?!! 

Chuckle. 

Another sip of wine, i had a thought but it escapes me….

Oh yeah I thought I really enjoy myself and I know that because I prefer to be alone a lot. 

For that one, that’s all I got. 

Why did I panic when I shaved my head. Hair grows. I’ve done it so many times. I have a good shaped head. 

Like my mom. I miss you Yuma. 

You always told me I had a beautiful face and that I should keep my hair short except maybe we should “fix” my nose

Laugh out loud. A mother knows. 

Another sip of white wine. 

His strumming persists and “Show me how”is on now. 

I’m groovin. 

Funny how my time and your time are the same time but not the same “time”, so to speak. 

I’m questioning whether you got that or not. It’s a lot but think about it….

Thoughts are circular. 

I just read what I wrote and started to analyze my thoughts. I discovered myself checking my punctuation. OCD? 

Fuck! I need to stop doing that in this state of mind. I? Or me? Whatever. 

Figure it out. Be clever. 

I just scrolled up to check again but I immediately stopped myself. Progress? Perhaps and then Don’t regress popped into my head.

I took a picture of my scene right now. And I thought how do I insert this? I figured it out…

Hell n back – Bakar. 

The strumming stopped. 

One of my favorite Arabian songs just came on. Amr Diab “Lealy Nahari”. So pretty

Auto correct kept changing it but I fought back! They’re so ducking annoying! 

Ray, your cactus accidentally got split so now I’m growing it again. I swear that must’ve been what you meant! “Newborn” you said. 

It’s funny how I never realized how much I loved you. And now your constantly in my head! Always been in my heart…

Thanks for showing up when you do yakhooy(brother)! It’s cool as hell. 

I Say to you all farewell. 

Wine refill….

There’s too much. I really could go on. But I’m buzzed so now I’m just gonna enjoy my music. 

Thoughts truly are circular.

-M

We lost our way in the littered streets of rebellion. 

And allowed for our being and our culture to slip into the cracks of the pavement and into the potholes of cultured destruction. 

We wanted freedom to be non-Palestinian. We yearned for America. 

But the fiber of the umbilical cord strewn so delicately, yet so powerfully never ceased in its hold and it was clear no matter how hard we tried to lacerate the connection we couldn’t cut it away and It was indestructible. 

And ay did our mothers pray for our well being and safety and ay did our fathers pummel into our psyche the pride of culture! 

“You will speak Arabic in the home for English is inevitable!”

Thank you Yuma and Yaba! 

And experience threw the challenges at our feet and disabled our stance. We shook unsteadily but never wavered from the truth because we were incapable. It was after all sewn into the veins of our Palestinian selves. And time came and went and the ground steadied itself in our grasp of understanding and non-understanding of what and who we were and of how and where we came from. 

The fragrance of our kitchens somehow etched their way into the depths of our souls. And the olive trees did grow. 

“They loved us as if they had no more breath in their body to love anyone else.”

And we lost our breath loving them back. 

                               -m

My head bows in prayer. The room echoes with silence. 

The voices are dancing like ripples on water.

Memory remembers the verses snd sayings, nostalgia is playing with the devil’s daughter. She’ll wake up drowning in blood from the slaughter. 

Goodnight angel. Goodnight sweetness. Take a deep breath. Goodnight and God bless. 

The flowers are everything, they patient the gloom. They nest all the secrets, relief in their bloom.  

Love minces words sometimes, confuses the brain, leaves desperate the bastard, turns sane to insane. 

-m

Lay the roses on a grave 

life is slave. 

Pack the boxes gripped with tape 

Move away. 

It’s cold outside 

And I’m freezing inside. 

I am still. 

Get lost in the shuffle of the day to day. 

But I get on as the wind rolls by. 

Bare feet on the pavement burn 

melting snow underneath.

Lungs, full and empty,

Take another breath. 

Write the song along a wave in emotion. 

In the sand it’s washed away, the ocean. 

I am still. 

Skid marks on the road, 

bloods a puddle. 

Stories left untold

Perhaps too subtle. 

People come and go

No one surely knows

Thank God as you leave, 

pray and grieve. 

That cloud looks like an elephant,

my head upward. 

That one is a demon,

Absurd. 

I am still. 

-M

These arms of mine lay at my side they reach out unafraid, yet when they’re raised to draw you in, they’re passively delayed.
My fingers trace the silhouette that mirrors you in frame, their cooperation wildly, yet leisurely so tame.
Reach out.
These arms of mine they won’t abide, they yearn to touch, subside.
Imagine sweeping up the wind in the palm of your hand and grasping on to every pearl of sand at your command.
Unsleep yourself.

Sitting safely in my home when grief came knocking at my door. I hesitantly opened it and my heart shattered to the floor.
Like a billion shards of glass, each one cutting deeper still, the day that grief knocked at my door. The day I lost my strength and will.
I cursed it to hell, this feeling I felt! I told it fuck off but it wouldn’t!
It clung to me with iron arms. I tried to break free but I couldn’t.
So here I sat.
I slept.
I woke, learning how to live like this, hopeful that when morning broke it wouldn’t greet me with its kiss.
But there it was the heavy burden that lay on me like the sea.
It was clear that grief had found its knew home here, in me.
It dug its roots deep to my soul. It grew with every tear.
It whispered, “I’m not letting go. You’re stuck with me, my dear!”
I thought if i could ignore it, it would become bored and then it would leave.
But it’s a real stubborn bastard, grief, for it knows I’ll always grieve.

People searching for tomorrow they’re not living in today
making plans and breaking promises.
Work all day to make a living then they throw it all away
collecting things or fill the void with empty kisses.
Pictures sitting on the bedside of the memories they made but still forgetting ’cause they rush around.
Fancy houses, can’t afford the day to day, racing feet that never touch the ground.
They put on masks because they’re so afraid,
laughing, smiles pretending.
Wash away the make up when they get home
The truth, a stinging slap across the face
because the mirror doesn’t lie even when you look away.
The distortion that you see is in your mind.
The image that you made up so that you can play the game is the devil
and the devil isn’t kind.