Monday, February 22, 2016

maybe in times of atrocity, never in times of volunteer

Dear broken family,

when the sun rises and I appreciate all its glory, all its magnificence
I come to be reminded about the sadness that it helps magnify within me
that underneath that sun there is wars
not the ones between countries or between governments but the ones between homes
homes of families, my family

that war is the most painful
and Allah
gave my family

the type where you snatch everything from the other and run
the type where you pin the other down to suffocate their happiness
the type where you look at the other with an eye of a knife
wanting to kill, yes wanting to kill
the type where you throw to break things at the other including blood
the type where you scream your misery at the other like darts urged to hit their mark
they type where you simply ...
want to hurt the other
want to deny the other your love
want to show them you are better no matter what they do
that type of war
I am living everyday 

I ask the sun to hide our pain
to hide our words
to hide our miseries and our differences
and yet since I am hope and will always be hope 
I ask the sun to shine out our love
to shine out our mercy
and to shine out our understanding
those parts that make us somewhat clipped together by similar genes

for I have to come to feel that the family I can trust is shrinking
like maybe how they will help in times of atrocity
but never in times of volunteer
like how they always have a nasty thing to say

like how orange fizzy drink should not be put on the 4rth floor like so and so
when i break up the words
i wonder
is it jealousy at the end of the day?
is it misunderstanding ?
is it complaining for him or for him?
I dont know
all i know is I am tired
very much so
and I am heartbroken
too much so

for i admit
I cannot show my love to all
and to those who i want to love
 they do not understand my quest
and to those who i need
they are not there for me all the time
in fact they are only angry with me all the time 
only in times of atrocity
never in times of volunteer


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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' -