Leaping Back and Forth

Safe haven is but an illusion,
a matrix of heaven and hell.
At the age of 38, I took a leap,
but not of faith.
A leap out of the cave.
I saw a light.
Now I can recognize the dark.
I can't go back.

Home is no longer 'home'.
My time ended there.
I was no longer welcomed there.
Every breath was a protest.
All tightened up against my eyes.
All felt small.

It was just the time to search for a new place.
I packed up and hit the road,
seeking refuge in foreign lands,
alien world.
 But I had no other choice.
The life I was building was bombed off:
a castle in the air.
It was time, to change places,
 seek new heavens.
The old paradise turned to new hell. 

When I came here, great expectations filled the air.
Great in stature and great in multitude.
I thought the sky was the limit,
but it turned to be my head scarf!
I will always be the foreigner,
I will  always be that Muslim girl!
I can't take it off;
I won't be me.
I will feel strange.
I won't recognize my reflection in their eyes.
Keeping it alienates me back
toward the 'home' I left,
captivates me in my foreignness.
I still wear the scarf.
It is my way back, when I lose direction. 

Back home, no one dreams of tomorrow.
Tomorrow is a prisoner of fear.
Back home, life is born of agony,
immature, stillborn.
Life ends before it begins and other ghosts survive:
long live the tribe! or is it, long live Islam?
or probably, the state?
Does our God needs cheering as well?
Long live Allah?!
It doesn't make sense. 

Back home, we lost our ways to sanity,
but found it toward sainthood:
we gaze at heaven, but feed the flames of hell.
Long live the Imam.
Isn't he alive for centuries now?
isn't he bored with this life?
At 38, I still search for a resting place,
Yet, he's survived!
Wars, floods, famine, and all earth's angry moves.
He just survived!
Does he watch, waiting for the right moment to make an entrance,
when all the world will hail him the savior?
He is probably wandering unaware of voices getting louder everyday:
long live the Imam!! 

Home feels hundred of years away.
I came and took the leap of time,
left the matrix of heaven and hell.
I jumped to a reality, unknown.
Foreign lands.
They still alienate me back home, but I refuse to leap back.
I refuse to submit again.
I am out of the cave, at last! 

How is Baghdad

You ask about Baghdad, 'how is it now?'

(You probably think of the news,

You want confirmation).

For a second, I close my eyes,

Not easy, to answer that sort of a question!

I open my eyes, ready to answer:

Hold on a moment, let me think how to reply,

(I want to sound smart)

I think of the postcolonial burden,

Race, gender, ethnicity,

All hold me back....

I need to tell you something intelligent:

(Shall I give a witty answer?

Ironically funny?

Borrow from pop culture? Movies perhaps?

Shall I continue the game of a sophisticated academic?)

The moment grows too long, I need to face your inquiry...

I swallow all the images of blood, destruction and war,

(No need to explain),

I hold off tears, and simply say,

"Baghdad is not fine!"

Bloody Wednesday 11/05/2016

I was thinking of writing so many things: the sunshine that every Londoner is celebrating with their kids, family and friends. I wanted to write about the kids playing in parks happy that they have a sunny day they can enjoy outside. I wanted to write about my alienation in the university, my dreams of uncertain future and so many other things rushing into my mind. But this happened: three explosions in Baghdad that shattered off hundreds of dreams, plans, and lives. Three explosions that ended lives still taking their first steps toward the world. Three explosions ending smiles resisting poverty, challenging the stagnation of life. They happened, and all I could do was to shed few tears and then sleep on my comfortable bed, enjoying the Spring breeze coming from my open window. Life goes on, but only outside Iraq.

Iraqi woman running in panic searching for her son after the explosion

Little blooming flowers, instead of looking after them to grow and flourish, we pluck them off prematurely and leave them to face terrible end

This is what is happening in Baghdad, and then they say IS took the responsibility of what happened. Seriously? the responsibly is of those who pledged to keep us safe, the responsibility of those who took these people’s money to give them “better life”. They didn’t even give them better “end”! IS can pay for and recruit people to do these explosions, but did it pay to the government to neglect those living a terrible life, and die terrible death? Maybe this is the case. Who knows!?

I don't know if I can say more, but it is a reality that we have to live with every day. When the explosion ends, and survivors go home, we talk about what happened, and in a sense of resignation to our predestined fate, go on with our lives, unaware we could be next!