Thursday, December 5, 2013

Where am I?

or exceptional identity

I dont want to forget everything that I am - Ya Allah zakirni - Ya Allah dont let me be a terrible person -a woman with thorns only hurting herself for as she sits she stings and she walks she is sharp and she lies down she pinpoints with pain and as she talks she flings knives -- --

Azans try break to enter inside i am a tough piece of skin - a mobile existence barely living - I am unsure of my capabilities and must be reminded of htem everyday - I must be compared with others to have a single cell of confidence and I am a clone of a dark shadow

I miss my friend  - we used to write to each other and one of us forgot - dont know which one but all I remember is the gym and the brunch coffees - always a deal - but now no more - missing who I was

Fatma is a lead woman - getting up at 6 i nthe morning to come into town to clean peoples houses and having an uplifting personality as if she was in the UK with a great job , her own apartment, and lots of money to buy things she doenst need - super happy and super hardworking - because at 5.30 in the evening she has a class for the illiterate to learn to read and write - arabic, english and maths - but before she goes she brings down any dry laundry from the sitooh

I see the negativities in others like bright sparks - but never to help or to fix within myself - always to bring down and to overjoy in how I dont do those things - then i must be better - its just a different sin maybe your are greater - Comparison like chocolate flakes but instead of being cool and soft on my skin they burn me like a waft of a dream gone wrong

200 to travel , she falls of the wagon, and gets on the norm, I am heartbroken and shy - I am tragic and pathetic for I compared myself to a leafless tree - maybe beautiful but definitely bare - I dont want to be bare or leafless and now I am crude oil - expensive -

20 for fruit, 22 for vegetable if I eat all that i got will I be a new woman? will all those vitamins and minerals deextend me and reshape me into that faithful woman with a great memory - Ya Allah  I lost my memory - but I wont let you down - I will go search for it until I find it - in every police station I have to -

its ironic to race a car amazingly in a movie and die in one in reality - but its not ironic that fairytales and unreal and reality is - but its not true that fairytales are wonderful and reality is scarce -no reality can be amazing, young, true , meaningful, encouraging, open, wonderful and mesmerising - the same feelings you get in a film, just without the lies and with a prayer mat, and a Quran, your Quran on the side

Cant trust anyone but yourself but I dont even trust myself no more - a heavy calamity I am and today is the 5th - where is the answer and why hasnt it been released yet? where is the answer - oh Allah where is the answer? i know there is an answer to every solution - is it that I dont deserve it yet - is it tehre and I cant see it? what must I change to see it? what must I do to feel it?

that unity with my heart and soul for I truly am a fragmented response to nothing - alert and asleep - strong and shattered, wise and dumb - what differs me from Fatma is nothing short of her being better and happier

what differs me from blessing is everything far but me enjoying the beautiful and delicious details Allah designed my life with

What differs me from purity is a dream and reality - for in the dream I am pure - and in relaity its just painful to watch -

What differs me from the woman I am and the woman I want to become is a black substance that regretfully holds me apart and together barely living and in a cloud of forgetfullness that once I held my Life in my own hands and made my own choices and created my own wonderful and prosperous identity- once I was like a kingdom and my fairytale meant something and was everything - down to the detail

the scent of beauty - smooth , the sound of faith, like the most beautiful tune - just this chandelier of honesty and gratitude and love for God is what i wanted to be all lit up and held up by that  non gravitational force of being a true soul - a soul that knows what its doing a soul not afraid to look at its own self no afraid of contradiction not afraid of time not afraid of thoughts not afraid of others

To be continued

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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' -