Poetry

Hello fellow poets!
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You made me question how beloved you were to me...
My thoughts in those tears of yours,
My whisper in your thoughts?
O innocent one, why do you keep my memories when I keep burning each memento?
I thought ours was deep, but it is just faceless.
Is it agonizing that time healed all those memories?
O innocent one, heal all those unspecial moments.

How's this selfishness of yours,
That your feet don't stay true to your heart.
You've tried crossing seven seas,
Yet why is your heart in a drought?
How's this selfishness of mine,
That I forgot your shadow,
I became free from the rain of love you showered my way.
What a loveless and ruthless person you've made me.
But you didn't fade the ink of my words.
How's this selfishness of yours, that neither bitter or sweet stuck on your tongue.
You are a free spirit,
Yet why have you ended within yourself while I became a free storm of wind?

Happy because…
If He chose it for me it means it’s the best for me
and because it’s the best for me
I’m happy with it.
#Allah the Most Loving. The Most Kind.

"Finding Me Before Finding You"

Finding someone who accepts us
is never an easy task.

But before we search for someone
who understands and embraces us,

we must first learn
to accept ourselves.

Because the journey of being loved
begins with loving who we truly are.

“ And then I realised the fire was always burning within me, but the flames were busy keeping everyone else warm “

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we'll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we'll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.

Should I write to you, or should I write about you?
Which words of yours are worthy of being etched into ink?
Every night, I confess my secrets to the moon, whispering your name.
Should I call you my garden of flowers, or my greatest heartbreak?
I will write through the day and the night, pouring out all my unsaid words.
Should I write of my love, or of your cold rejection?
If I were a poet, I would have captured the light in your eyes, the curve of your lips, and the strength of those arms that once protected me unknowingly becoming my only sanctuary.
By:- Jannatul Firdous

"Nothing vanishes the light in a man's eye:
Like the abandonment of a woman,…
Who was his land, sky and universe."

• -Ghassan Kanafani