Haunts That Taunt; Salvation Sought!

You've done this before, and You'll help again; again and again, as many times as help shall be needed or sought. With this faith I find myself able to survive. It is the crossroads that I have arrived on again. The before has become alive now, and this now is harder to forget than it was before. Could it be that I had been so successful in dealing with the gravity of it all in the past, that I have forgotten the struggle of it then? Could it be possible that the struggle anew is to remind myself of the good that can come of it, if successfully dealt with again? What fails to make sense is, why that? Why that, which no one else would understand unless they were to have lived it, seen it, or been through something akin to it themselves? Someone who is not aware of the issue can never understand the issue. Between this logic I see a thin road that is hard for all to tread. Barely any are able to find a foothold firm enough to get past a step or two at best. The test for me remains, to keep my silence and maintain respect despite the odds. My love for her lives in my soul, for her to know, for Him to bless, and for me to be able to successfully share with her. This I find hard, but am adamant to achieve it, sooner than later. It is the silently monitored respect for the other half that I find interspersed between a better me and a weak me. The better me had succeeded in forgiving, but the weaker me could not forget. The better me had managed to bury if not forget for most part, but the weaker me has managed to let it trickle back into my now as it stands today. It's unwelcome presence in my now is affecting my better judgment and making me more weaker than better. My fight against the weaker me, is essential for me to be able to find some peace for my eternity. Without that goal to achieve, my existence feels lost and wasted. In the trapped hollow of that one wretched WHY, I cannot allow myself to despair and excuse all my wrongs. While being judged for my weaknesses, I pray for a renewal of strength, faith, and guidance from You, The One Who Knows Best, and to be saved from losing my way on the slippery road of pride and its other wretched brethren. In Your All Empowering Light I hope to be Enveloped, In Your All Healing Embrace I pine to be Held.

In aspirations thus I let my tears glide over my guilt and wrong doings that I am aware of, or not, and with this prayer I struggle towards some residue of peace to be found...

... InshaAllah, Ameen!

Asunder

She needs to walk out of the door. Not look back or try to compromise with her thoughts. Where they lie in their present state becomes apparent when she hears that in her sleep she cried and tried to beg for something that only made her cry some more. What could be plaguing her mind; perhaps a deeply rooted, recently molested rudely awoken state of duress? The pains she imagines, and consistently gets told that she does nothing but imagine them, live inside her body - surely they exist. Perhaps time in its mystical way will unfold what is to be. It will unfold what is to be! Perhaps is just my denial. It stems from the untapped fear of it all being too late, by the time reality comes to terms with it all. Maybe's and What-if's together comprise the main ingredient that concocts and brews this dilemma into a froth of mayhem inside her fabric of being leaving it thoroughly wrought, plundered; asunder.

Puppets

The bellowing twist that is embodied by you, is all empowering as it holds all that should be under your care and love, with tight hurting strings instead. Each string you seem to have intricately woven into a tight knot of control for every twitch and breath that may ever dare to escape them. The emotion and action that you seem to beguile your own with, seem to have swept away under an unseen rug of mystery all that is understanding or kind in a way desperately needed. No memory succeeds in remembering if they ever existed to begin with. The ever fair minded heart that beats with in one of yours, wishfully thinks that just may be perhaps all were missing an integral piece to your logic, but sense precedes over this naive hopeful heart's magnanimous yet deceived reasoning. When sense prevails, a buried memory can't help but remember how you once raped her soul of it's very breath and being, but she quickly tucks it back into the gloom of dark denied captivity where it best remain before a tsunami of inexplicable thoughts plunder an untrod zone that renders every sense that could be hoped for, into a numbed state of irrevocable shock. You, in your mistaken guise of King, remain failing in my eyes today when I see you lash, lash, and constantly clash with all who and that, that make sense; when most things around you seem to be turning to gloom; when fear's the dominant emotion super ceding care, respect, and love whilst in your company. Two wrongs don't make a right; I fail to convince her, for she has become far too embroiled in your controlling grasp and mostly functions to your loosening or tightening of the strings that you and only you command and control. Futile her own reason and wants become when you wish for her to perform to your precise whims and insanities. Voiceless she has become, voicing often as a result to a preoccupied audience mostly, having lost her voice of reason to your vociferous diatribes and verbose unpleasant insulting atrocities. Her heart, it still shines though. I fear for her luminescence, lest it tires and stops glistening. Your tightly strapped tactics that rampage and gorge uninhibitedly leave gaping holes in places where existed the heart and soul of those who wished to keep emotions and feelings alive. It is indeed worrisome, as to how long they will -each through their dreary worn out weathered to the end of their tethered existence- survive. The wail that silently lurks our halls, day in and out for some time now, is becoming louder and harder to keep out. Silence, her temporary refuge, can only stay resolute for so long. Perhaps if you ceased to exist, the others could? But when has the death of a dictator brought with it lasting peace? It would be only so long before unrest wakes up again. For now I think I will shut my door and block all its crevices again in order to return to my hole of subdued essential silence.

The Reel Rewound Itself

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Then time played its toil
Her feelings uncoiled
And in a him her hopes
Aspired to live through

Her hopes were boiled
Life churned her feelings aside
And him she lost
Giving priority to her religious aspirations

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Then time played its toil
Her feelings still coy
A friend found his way through
Giving her hope anew

Her aspirations changed
He played with her games
In hopes unfulfilled she remained
To greener pastures he trod off to leaving her shamed

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

Then time played its toil
Her emotions uncoiled
To his tune of reassurance
That ignited hope in her aspirations again

He spun his wonderful tales
Once enraptured was she
Truth he then confessed
And on a whole new level broke her entirety

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

And to time there on thus
No matter what tune life thrust
She heard not their songs
Her feelings froze and no one would she trust

They came for themselves
And they left her without
She learned from them though
Her hopes remained in a picture unframed

Her innocence was soiled
Her hopes
Her feelings
Her aspirations too

'The' Precipice, or 'A' ?

This journey is not complete. The human heart, never quite acquiesced, resents having it's time cut short before it feels ready to let go of all that it has to do in this lifetime. Therefore, it dreams on for things it hopes to have, do, or see in a tomorrow unseen - and - sometimes it succeeds in making the dream into a reality, sometimes it doesn't. It's just as simple as that. In a humble journey of 30 odd years thus, I think to myself of the precipices I've been on. The sheer falls that I have not jumped, the steep heights that I have not reached, and the many edges that I've scraped through; Alhumdulillah, survived. They have been what has come together to make me. I keep arriving at a precipice - of some shape, sort, or another - every now and then, as I breathe and continue to exist. Falling is impending, Jumping a choice - Heights are looming, Climbing them tiresome - Edges are inescapable, Scraping through; lifes test. The riddle, nevertheless remains, whether we on this journey (had) arrive(d) at 'THE' precipice, or 'A'.

What ensues, ''in stone'' thus, perhaps decides...

Frivol- ity/ous

Frivolity

Do you even stop to enjoy it
Do you get to take part in it and savour it
Do you get to save it
Do you think it's worth it

Frivolous

I wonder what we all get by being it
I wonder if we feel, per se
I wonder what we'd do if we could
I wonder if that would stop us

From being so.

What Men Want

[ Blogadda contest entry for - What men want . Perhaps where my thoughts come from may not be clear to the reader. Perhaps the song at the end of my post would elaborate in some way. Perhaps... ]

Tiny little boxes; the last place, I would dare trying to fit a man into. As far as my experience goes, men don't like hearing others speak from a boom box, explaining what it is that THEY want. After all, men want what they want, and all men -just like women- are different. We can joke about it from this perspective, or steam about it from another, but no two ideas - or more- can ever do justice to the elusive question of ''what men want'', just as none can carve into stone what women do.

She asked her father, ''Daddy, what will I be?''
Daddy said, ''Princess, whatever you wish, you'll see!''

She said to her father, ''Daddy, please don't, it hurts and I'm scared!''
Daddy said, ''Shut up! Or I'll have you do more!''

The above situations (and let's call the last one -insinuation-); both realities, but with an array of spectrums in between. While one man wanted nothing but happiness in the life of his daughter, the other abused it for his selfish needs and reasons.

What a man wants, could be just as giving or selfish as what a woman wants. At the end of the day, it all boils down to the personalities of both; whether they come from a moralistic high ground, or a morally devoid one. I could list pages of things, but that would still fall short in the case of one man, or the other, and yet another, followed by some more. One tag simply does not fit all, is all I have to say.

I could say, 'what a man wants' is to...

- be a man
- be a son
- be a successful human being
- be an inspiration
- be a good friend
- be a brother, a husband, a father
- be a leader, a provider, a caretaker
- be taken care of yet be strong
- be sensitive yet be solid
- be the rock for those in his life, no matter of what essence, role or gender

- be THE MAN of all men.

I could say one thing, then I could say a hundred more, and I'd still have not gotten it right. For, there really isn't one little box in which all the men out there can be placed into, what with their varied wants and history's that stand witness to where they come from, making their actions their talisman.

 Patrick Wolf : Overture

* Official website

What Men Want results announced [It's quite humbling that this post got mentioned by the Judge]

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Anguished Weakness

It hurts... gosh it oh so still hurts...
like ever before, and just like then sore,
It hurts... It still hurts oh so much and then some more...
I pacify myself to let go,
Not walk to that place, no not again, oh no!
It beckons; strong memories from afore,
I frightened; beg the reel to please stop!
I wipe my tears and remind my heart to blot!
Conciously my mind begins to work on it...
Close my eyes I do then,
And with beads of prayer I decide to sleep on it...

Mutli-faceted Rape...

'They' raped away her childhood...
When she was too innocent, too scared.

He raped away her dreams...
Perhaps she did his too albiet at that time, unaware.

He raped away her friendship...
When her heart for him she had laid out completely bare.

He raped away her worthiness...
Coercing her to falter into places she had dreadfully despaired.

She breathes on today and waits

For memories sour to go away

In prayer she cries and berates

Herself for all that she has fared

She seeks an absolution enormous

That only Allah can offer to spare

And in that hope she cries

And in that hope she prays

For her yesterdays to be cleansed

From their memories ghastly and bent

And for her to be able to forget them

Bury them forever and no longer for them ache or care.

~ Ameen...

Again I pray...

Men who allure me
Please dont adore me

Why with 'you', why -me-?
Why make me feel for 'thee'?

Oh God, watch over -me-
Keep me safe from all such -he's-
Guard and preserve my precious modesty
Help me re-gain a modicum of my lost chastity
Absolve me of deeds that were encroached by their seeds
By a will of their own when I may have lost control
of who I was and who I could have been...

Lost beyond words, and then some...

I sit here thinking about all the failures I have lived, the disappointment that I have been to those around me expecting to make something of myself, and to myself, forever waiting to see myself succeed at something, make someone... anyone, proud of the person I am.

I wait on to see such a day... I wish on it, unabashed, resilient inspite of all the falls, despite the sad eyes and dejected voices of those around me, the lack of arms holding me, saving me from the stumbles that I have taken; sadly not unhurt, but thankfully survived, having learnt to be a little stronger, be patient for just a little longer...

As a child I think I was loved. But then near 10 yrs of age, the attention moved to a younger sibling, and then yet another. My childhood was lost to setting a good example and looking after the younger ones.

Perhaps it was destiny that my young self was also meant to be put through a molestation of sorts, meant to be repeated by perpetrators more than one, right in the safety of a place that was 'supposed' to be my sanctuary, to be home. Ravaged by it for some years I was, scared out of my wits, sometimes driven beyond sanity, wondering if it was a fault of my own that this happened to me, not once, but over and over, time and again.

Allah saved me. He did not let me die when that was all I wanted. Tainted, scarred, I decided to live on. Barricading my mind to the pain and loss of normalcy, I dragged my feet on, having lost all and any interest in school. Passing it without any emotion, continuing to disappoint the expectations of parents and teachers.

''She isn't stupid, it's just that she needs to work harder, but she won't.''

'' Perhaps, she should study something else. She is not smart enough for this?''

''I think her friends should be changed. They are misguiding her.''

''She is lazy. She is a good for nothing!''

''I don't know what she will do in life!''

.... voices echo in my mind, my heart in its deep recesses feels a pain that my mind has, with lots of practice, learnt to numb. Therefore, with a face that shows a lack of emotion, eyes that mostly succeed in staying dry and lips that are forced not to tremble, I face all, letting them believe what they may, what they 'know' to be right.

I am then sent to a college, without being given any choice, with a subject decided by my mother, to study, finally away from home. Why I want to work hard at it, I know not. But I do, and I do pretty well. But not well enough, for when I work hard, I seldom see the results that I had sought. I must be greatful for my mediocrity. Teachers love those they know. I must not seek their approval, for they only love the best. As do parents, they only love the best. I was tainted. I must remember that.

I finish studies and get a job. I hold it for 2 years, followed by 2 years of seeking another employment. I get called for interviews, but I do not secure a job. My mediocrity again, is it? Jobs are given to the best. Apparently, I cannot teach, as is all I am qualified to do. I cannot write, as I wish to do. My soul knows not which way to tread no more, my words I can write, but who's to read them? Are they worth anything with their mediocrity? Does the world hold any place for us of mediocre status?

Mediocre mind, mediocre looks, mediocre achievements...

Men they seek beauty... their mothers seek the best...

Work, it seeks the most accomplished... their recruitment only for the most outstanding...

Where do I stand? All I have to hold on to steadfast, is my faith in my Lord, and not loose hope and keep praying 'for the best', keeping my faith staunch and knowing 'something better is in store for me', but how long I will be this strong, I know not... How long will I be able to hold on, not break, I know not...

I am keeping my heart on hold in fear... No one wants me... They want their temporary respite in me if at all. Everyone else wants the best. Best was never me.

I am keeping my brain in question... No one will hire me... They want their employees, with better degrees, and better accents and nationalities. Better anything was never me.

I am only me.
I don't know how to be anything else.
I don't know how to be anyone else.
I don't know what else to do, but pray.

I do pray.
Till the moment I can breathe... I will pray.

Maybe my hereafter will have something ''better'' for me, where I can hope to be the ''best''?

Allahu Alim.

I am what I am

Classic beauty, I AM NOT!
I am only what my God hath wrought.
Colour, creed, size, education,
you perceive my vocation?

Dear heart its folly is to
be temporarily sad,
In being overlooked, and
never to have had,

While others were attended to
with words of flowers
When ladies fair
were gifted and honoured.

My heart it humanly skips a beat,
While treading unfamiliar grounds,
Not knowing what its like
to be wanted like a treasure found,

But momentary dreams
must hereby be snapped.
Reality repeats, dear heart I must wrap
in a cucoon of knowledge from events past.

Men, they choose what their eyes can see,
Fair damsels and all that is pretty…
Wits of ladies made plain yet fine,
Most men can not see, they remain undermined.

Peace I seek, in the knowledge of Thee!
Oh Lord, I am blessed with what not all do see,
What ever you made me, I thank Yee,
But do please give me a Man who can loveth Me?

Reminiscent and now

It was you and I and that perfect quietness that is only when you look into my eyes, and everything around us goes still even when actually it is all rushing on by, the hold of your hand I trust inspite of sordid memories past, not knowing myself exactly why, those moments spent with you in a world locked alone, when reality around me had only yearned then burned... Few precious seconds cucooned between soft clouds and heady scented curtains of rain, speeding from a bliss of reality that left me breathless, to a crescendo of a sad farewell then pain and on to its lonely yet hopeful end... Waiting endlessly to turn around the next bend to arrive onto a road that is my peaceful state of permanence...

Questions??? Questions... Questions!!!

There lay at nite this little trite
her dreams her bunnies her bows,
all struck at night, there tragedy striked,
her heart her will were torn...

She smiled so bright and fought the fight
her heart she mended - it shone!
She played it right she strived she tried
At last she laid it - worn...

She saw one hope, its glimmer like dope
which burnt her sight, entire feelings alight
she tossed and turned, twisted, forlorn,
then looked and searched, her questions all scorned

Her soul once 'bused, then bruised, then used,
Lied yet in wait for that wily fate,
so as not to yearn, to accept the lesson learnt
What only God could have always,
He only always, truly discerned!

Masked

The world looks at you
and see's your smiling face.
A smile that hides behind it
so much disgrace.
That smile you show
is that your real face?
You know better, there's so much heart ache!
A smile on show, a smile for who?
What you're hiding, there's not a clue.
Your smile, it's bright and it's pretty.
What's really inside, is your self-pity....
That smile is on, always aglow,
How long can it hide all that you know?

A Lost Soul...

A lost soul, bruised and wounded
desperately in search, in search for... ?
A heart that's numb
from so much want,
for a safety yet to be found,
so that her feet may finally know
what it's like to feel the ground, it's safety beneath;
shooken feet that can't stop trembling,
that can't help from depending.
A soul once pure, untouched, so sweet,
Now shattered and beaten,
so cruelly scattered, thrown back and sweeped.
A hand outstetched to be safely held,
A hand that's beaten, burnt and bent.
The emotions keep tangling,
keep wounding with in,
so completely wroughtened,
so chilled and cold.
A heart in search for the unknown,
An empty feeling with a thrust so bold,
A helpless realisation because of hopes all lost,
A hunger unfed, a thirst unquenched,
A longing inside, never to be satisfied,
A wound never to be healed,
A need never to be fulfilled,
A hand never to be thoughtfully held,
A heart never to be warmed,
A soul never to be shared,
A lost soul, never to ever find home...

Questioning Destiny

When I look in the mirror
What do I see,
a sad picture, a painful big heap...
How did I get here, a question I ask,
The answer I know, then why do I ask?
Why do I persist in wallowing deep?
Why do I bother to go through and seek?
What is it I'm searching for?
A word that's read in books?
What am I craving for,
Very few have actually looked!
If at all, it could'nt make a difference
'cos those looks are only vile.
It's the hollow space that aches and cries
and all it actually gets is denial.
With arms outstretched,
my hands, they grope,
to what avail?
Only space, never hope.
A lonely heart which continues to beat
Though why when there isn't any scope?
And yet at times when hope seems to glimmer,
All hope avails is to give me a shiver.
But what's the point
when it still gets crushed?
And what's the point,
there never really seemed a rush;
Will I get it, or lose it?
'cos lost it already was...
I never really did have it,
I never really ever could,
all of what that I always wanted,
So why should there have been
any exception now?
Why should there have
been an exception ever?
In my fate was always written - Never!