Monday, November 26, 2007

RE - defined soldier

In the freedom of captivity, you fall to the reigns of your visions and motivations. Held in a future loathed to religion and devoured by courageous modernity you are twisted in the blends of African American nativity though you are purely and full of bravery – Sudanese. Your heart calls to the deserts and the heat, molded by its warrior perseverance, it calls you to fight and you love the magical temptation of its strength, falling in its tranquility yet commanded by its need.

Yet the ice particle of the far away land connects you with a strange lifeless meaning you must enjoy. Even though the cold trembles at your emotions, your attitude is devotion towards this close freezing ground. Each step, each breath is nearer to your soul but each moment and each night throws you further into the pits of a foreign identity; this is not your home, this is not where you come from. But the resemblance it shows you to your opinions and your enjoyments are too much for you to resist, it’s too hard to quit now and become a leader or a soldier of your true deepest colors, too difficult to change now and turn into someone who worships hard work from your natural accord, much easier to follow a manufactured familiarity and suddenly the cold feels like it comes from home; you feel at home; home sweet home.

With an instant slowness there will come a day when you are too old to act the part. Internally you will be meaningless and to the outside it will always be too late to become one of them and too far back to be yourself. Most tragically, you will have lost yourself to the evolution of madness and weak knowledge of self status. Stuck in the realms of who you wanted to become and who you really are, your soul is kidnapped by the confusion, hung to a bigger picture of stereotypical betrayal.

I argue your case in my mind smashed by its superiority; I am uneducated for its complications. How do I convince you? How do I confront you? The questions judge me before I speak to my inner tears. I am a miniscule voice, a miniature meaning that can never have an effect on your intensity to live.

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What it is...

I see Life like a rose in the ice... beautiful but with cold settings - There are so many incredible things out there - but we always need to fight and perservere against the hardships too... otherwise the cold will win ... and we will wither away.

My imagination has led me to believe in something called 'Sudan Fairytale' -
The fantasy that My country will one day be independant and proud, never selfsish to provide its people with its needs, give freedom and success to all, be forever committed to achieve a prosperous inhabitance to every Sudanese in their own country-

My eyes fail me and I see the truth which I call - 'Khartoum Heartbreak' - This is a theme running through the blog under the 'Khartoum Heartbreak' Poems and whatever else about Sudan conveying broken down love, poor streets and cut off electricity along with a lot of other decays and problems in Khartoum city Life.

But I love my country and so I have no choice but to merge the Pain and the Love as one.

Faith is my heart and I could never do without it hoping in my prayers that I can be someone better always and that God forgives me as I fall in Mistakes through that frozen path of Life...

Sometimes I feel under control with all the too many emotions that run to colour my days and nights - Books, movies, music, dreams, friends, family, strangers, travel, - reality - the 10 O' Clock news -Most of the time I'm very Lost in trying to understand - whatever happens becomes tangled into writing this confusing memoir -

It's a really odd combination of air - not sure whether it is refreshing or suffocating - stabilising or maddening - But I breathe and
so it is
'Memoirs of a Sudanese breath' as I am 'Lost but under control' -