SingulariT

The uncommon

With my eyes I see the world
On my legs I walk it.
I roll down and climb up;
I see two lovers in the sky-
a galaxy apart.

I relish- I suffer-
The great gain;
the great loss.
How can I ever forget,
“May God give you strength
In your exile, my child”

I write my poetry in English-
But this language doesn’t
Have the words I know.

-🔆-

(Long-ish) A/N:
My heart is so heavy with love for Sabria and Fawzy, my beloved grandparents who finally reunited a couple of days ago. I am grateful that although I am alone with my thoughts and feelings, I get to see the big world in ways that make me feel like me and my big feelings are so small.

In Arabic we have a word for the state of leaving one’s home and going out to find things in the world, and the difficult feelings of loneliness that come with it. It is غربة [ghorba]. The word probably either comes from غرب [gharb] which means “west” or غريب [ghareeb] which means “stranger”. I have no idea how all three words are related, but I contemplate very often how and why it doesn’t exist in the English language. The translation that the dictionary gives me is “exile”, but we have another word with a completely different meaning for that. Oh well.

Unrelatedly, Vega and Altair have been rocking my world recently- lighting up my sky on every difficult night I spend alone in the mountains. I recently found out a very cute Chinese folk tale about them. I hope you enjoy it too, peeps.

May – May

It is May.
All the dandelions
Shed their fuzzy golden coats
By the mildly glowing coast
Ready
To float, and dance.

It is May.
All the dandelions;
Fuzzy little dreams;
A million wishes
Ready
To be made.

It is May.
All the dandelions;
White and green;
All is new and all is true;
All is in my heart.
Mayday, mayday, mayday.

-🔆-

May – Might

May – Mayn’t

13

I hold the orb in my palm,
And stare.
All I yearned for as I struggled
On the way out
Isn’t there.

Toka*,
Can you still hold the weight of me,
As my body grows longer,
My claws sharper,
My shell harder,
And my heart lonelier?

Thirteen years
Of hymns;
Thirteen pairs
Of limbs.
A subtle transformation
Of the weather.

The spring struggles to emerge
One more time
From the earth;
A physical form
On the verge
Of rebirth.

Thirteen pairs of eyes
Witness me break
Out of the bleak;
Completely made of
The love that I seek;
Completely made of
The love I recieve.

It overflows,
And swallows
Me.

-☀-

* Toka

Part I: 22 33… 99
Part II: Coleoptra

Acceptance

When I ask God
To Forgive me
For I’ve foresaken all the good,
I dreamt of once.
Do I hope for his forgiveness?
Or do I hope to get another chance;
A reason to forgive myself?

When I ask God
To make me content;
For life did not go as I planned.
Do I hope to get his blessing?
Or do I hope to see
All I have in my hands,
Instead of what esacped them?

Give me some mercy,
To have for myself.
Give me acceptance;
A stronger heart
To guide me through life.

-🔆-

July 2, 2024.

First Light

Of cold hands
Attached to the past
I let go, and envision a path
To new and spacious lands.

I look up, and see the horizon
Big enough for my stars to rise in
And it is beautiful;
It is bright and infinite.

How small did I have to become?
Till you could see a person
When you look at my face;
Till you could think of love
When you hear my name
From astronomical distances?

It’s okay;
The sky is not enough
If you want all of space.

Small eyes, opened wide;
They Meet their first light
In new wavelengths.

With you here right by my side
Our love shines too bright
And we’re full of strength.

How big do I have to become?
Till you can see the sun
Rise onto my skin;
Till you can hear the songs
Of the sinking nymphs
At astronomical distances?

It’s okay;
The earth is too much
When all you want has been.

-🔆-🔆-🔆-

A/N: When a new telescope is used for the very first time, the observation is called the first light. As an astronomer and a poet, I find this very romantic. The featured image is from the first light of the Euclid space telescope (Credits: ESA/Euclid/Euclid).

Touch

The earth’s greif
Thinks we are lovers
Joined by the hip.
Its arms constantly locked
Around my waist;
Its fingers always on my lips.
I cannot steal or free a note.
I cannot move or rest.

With my face I touch,
The gentle winds of spring;
I yearn, and I recieve.
I feel the world, my self,
Barely at my fingertips.
I savour a touch of freedom.
And yet, too far I shall remain
To steal one tender caress.

Today
I think of the possible,
Of the impossible,
And of myself.

On my two legs I stand,
Afraid
And thrilled.

Today
With fear and gratitude
I weep.

-🔆-🔆-🔆-

Opaque/Love Poem

Every time I get
Little happy thoughts or news
I always think of sharing them
With you.

I never do.

I cannot unsee
The steps you take away from me
Every time I stretch my arms
To reach you.

I think of every time
I flew over the moon
For trivial things
That meant the world to me;
You always only saw them
For what they really are.

I think of every time
I waited for myself to matter,
And I wondered if you’ll ever
Let yourself stare at my eyes
Long enough to realize
They are so brown;
Long enough to realize
They yearn to lay
On you.

Maybe then you’ll think
I am worth your time of day.

Maybe then you’ll think
I can be so full of fun, and love, and joy.

Maybe then I’ll find the courage
To speak to you again,
And keep your gifts instead
Of throwing them to burn
Next to my old corpse of glass
That’s no longer clear enough.

In my world
Love
Is unattainable,
Though it will not
Leave me alone.

In my world
Love
Is cruel, dismissive,
Though it will not
Let itself stare at my eyes
Long enough to realize
They are so brown.

🔆-🔆-🔆-🔆-🔆

Bystander

The gift of humanity
Shines its light through
The dark and heavy
Cloak of a life
Unkind for its impermanence,
And kind for its lives.

In the shadow of my wall
A bystander; I watch
Honesty and trust
Pulling them ashore,
Gently brushing off their eyes
Fragile coats of tears and dust.

Reaching for the sky
Together,
Climbing up each other’s backs
Taking turns
To give the boost,
And be the root;
Together,
Reaching for the sky,
Together.

-🔆-🔆-🔆-

Heaven

Dearest,

Don’t you wish you could be
With A woman
Who wouldn’t worry,
Who wouldn’t weep out both her lungs,
Her beating heart, her writhing soul,
The very life inside her bones,
Every time she hears or thinks of,
Childbirth, illness,
The heaven where she won’t belong.

A woman,
Who wouldn’t lose her mind
And let it wander and get lost
With those resembling herself,
Facless and nameless; Across the sea.
Being an asset; disposable;
Being a woman in her homeland.

Don’t you wish you could be
With a woman
who isn’t
Terrified of every touch
She yearns for?
A woman,
Who has never
Been touched against her will?

Don’t you wish your life was easy?
I do, too.

Dearest,

I am a woman,
Who weeps out fractions of her spirit,
Every time she hears or thinks of,
Childbirth, illness, heaven,
Of Being
Faceless and nameless; Across the sea.
Of Being a woman from her homeland.

I am a woman
Who is
Terrified of every touch
She yearns for.
A woman
Who has only ever
Been touched against her will.

Dearest,

I am a woman
Who worries, and weeps.

-🔆-🔆-🔆-🔆-🔆-🔆-🔆-

Art by Arthur Rackham.

Kirschblüten

On branches high
And dark as night,
Lie all of these bewitching shades
Of rose quartz and kunzite.
I see my eyelid
Bright orange with sunlight,
As glowing green aventurine
Takes over once again.

Dry, and cold, and bare-
Thriving with all shades of life.
There it hides in plain sight,
Forgotten and forgetful,
The spellbinding smile of spring;
A fleeting glimpse of freedom.

In earth so deep
And dark as night,
Lies a dream that has once run its course,
A child that has been almost born
But crawled right back
Into the womb,
As the rosy shade of spring
Turns a stranger once again.

-🔆-