Fear.

Fear.
It gnaws at my throat, gripping, grabbing, ripping and clenching.
Tightening my wind pipes, squeezing my breath, I look round hoping it won’t come to collect.
Collecting my hopes, my dreams, my love for you; it never left, it’s residue lingering on the fringes of my faith, I cry in anxiety, calling out to God. Free me, hold me, keep me close, don’t let him take me and don’t let him collect.
The dark place.
That place where the soul lingers, gasping for light, seeking its might.

Don’t let it collect; remaining fragments of love, hope and years of ache, the small pieces of glass, broken, some mended, always cracked.
Don’t collect.
Fear, how real a transformation of the abstract.

Forgiveness

Sometimes forgiving is easier then remembering the pain. Sometimes letting go is better then holding on and moving forward is better then living in the past. Running away isn’t always the right option but removing yourself from the situation is always your decision.

Forgive friend so you maybe forgiven

Love so you can love yourself,

Make the choice and start afresh,

For tomorrow is never promised.

Praise is only for today.

Revitalize

Revitalize

She Said, I Prefer A Broken Neck-Amir Sulaiman

She said that she would prefer a broken neck to another broken heart.
I said “Remember, even the beauty of birth leaves its own scars
And know that you will find your home right where you are.” She said, “I know it sounds cliche, but I really am just waiting to exhale.”
She’s not looking for a perfect man, she ain’t holding out for Denzel
She’s just looking for a real man,
But she said “Most of the realest were in graves or in jail”
Just an upright brother, but she’s left with low down brothers, homo thugs, and downlow brothers.
And it took her some time with herself to discover
That having love is even more important than having a lover
But what am I supposed to tell her?
That it’s going to be okay? But it may not be.
It may be hard and ugly,
Difficult, complicated, rough and bloody
And I said, “So many women are struggling”
She said, “Yeah, I’d like a man to kiss me, I’d like a man to hug me
But he’s gotta truly love love before he can truly love me”
I said, “I feel you.” She said, “No, you’re not feeling me.
We are women bringing up seeds,
Our own sons grow up thinking love is a disease
Ducking and dodging real relationships, and just gonna take what they please
And they treat pregnancy like it’s an STD
If the test comes back positive, it’s a negative
And they are ghost in the streets,
Drunk in the wind, only a moment is spent and those moments are brief
Our sons’ role models are rolling stones unknown or deceased
They figure we can’t teach them manhood, so they’ll get grown in the streets
So in the cold world they find warmth with the men holding the heat.
“I said “There’s gotta be a change.”
She said, “Yeah, it’s gotta be more than poems on TV”
I said, “I feel you.” She asked me how I survive.
I said, “By Allāh, it was my mother otherwise
I would have been dead, crazy, institutionalized.”
“She kept us in the good neighborhoods, even though she couldn’t keep on the lights
So we could go to the best schools learning to read and to write.
Sometimes we’d be so broke, in the store, she’d have to pick between the beans and the rice.
Sometimes she’d put ketchup on a navy bean so it wouldn’t seem like we’re eating the same thing every night.
Two jobs during the day, and one at night.
And the stuff I saw her endure, I never wanna see my wife [endure] So I know being a man is more than being male, and I’m focused on doing it right.”
“But when I think about my childhood, I don’t think about poverty
I remember how she hugged me, kissed me, taught me, loved me.
And I know you prefer a broken neck to another broken heart
Broken parts that litter the night sky like stars.
But remember, even the beauty of birth leaves its own scars
And know that you will find your home, right where you are
We will find our homes right where we are.”
~ Amir Sulaiman

Video

At This Particular Time

So many things that go through my mind,

At this particular time,

Surrounded by your awkward lies,

 

I sink.

There’s no more rhyme,

Anymore,

In my hollow lines.

Culture

Freshly ground spices, the smell lingering, the only sense of comfort,
She wanders through her kitchen, trying to make sense of her feelings,for the first time.

In and out, waiting for the aroma to settle, she sighs and quietly groans,
Simmering in her bones, the culture shock, she doesn’t know how to truly feel.

Noone around, no one here to witness, there is no appeal.
For her.

The anguish of the separation kicking in as she stops to stir,
Under her hand the melting pot begins to burn.

Oh how different, she thinks to herself.

How she wishes, she was back there, again,
In the land of content, life and real fresh air.

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