Beirut Explosion August 4, 2020

For some the Apocalypse isn’t a future possibility but a historical reality.

There are no words to describe what happened here on August 4, 2020. The blast in Beirut was staggering in magnitude, and I still can’t wrap my head around what happened. You think you’d get accustomed to tragedy but you never really do.  In an instant, hundreds of people died (many buried under the rubble), thousands injured hundreds of thousands were left without a roof over their heads, and scores of people are still missing. People lost their loved ones, their homes, their businesses in a blink of an eye.

What happened is much more horrible than most grotesque tale. Beirut is literally destroyed; streets are littered with debris. There’s not enough space to stand here and not enough oxygen to breath. We live in a country already suffering from all the possible nightmares: a brink of total unmitigated economic collapse, hyperinflation, collapse of national currency, skyrocketing unemployment, oligarchy corrupted warlords ruling for decades, pandemic and now our capital city is destroyed. We felt as if our hearts have been wiped off our bodies. Broke and broke beyond imagination in all parts.

My tears trickled as I watched ghastly images of Beirut, I kept replaying videos showing the explosion and kept asking myself “How could this happen?” Seeing death, crying children, adults running horribly feared, blood and destruction everywhere I broke down in tears along with my friends. We were grieving for all the lost lives, memories, for our broken nation and dreams, and for our unknown future. The surreal destruction of Beirut symbolized our downfalls.

Our hearts may have died that day, but we still have hope. Despite all the destruction I kept seeing unconditional love and sacrifices among the Lebanese.The people carrying children and running for shelter. The people wiping each other’s blood. The people comforting each other and holding each other. Those taking the wounded to the hospital. Those lining up to donate blood. Those who are helping cleaning debris and donating. The amount of love, and selflessness is overwhelming. We shall rise again; we shall show the world how to be unbroken.
Beirut, I love you ❤

Not a very happy Father’s Day

Today is Father’s Day; father is supposed to be a child’s first protector, mentor, and hero but unfortunately for many a father can be their first nightmare and tormentor, so:

Not a very happy Father’s Day for those children who have always been dismissed by their fathers whenever they wanted approval or to be appreciated.
Not for those children who suffer every day and want their father to reach out to them or help them and be there for them in their dark times.
Not for those children who felt envious or teary eyed every day while growing up when they saw other fathers being physically affectionate towards their children because they never received it.
Not for those children who never felt loved by their father regardless of how hard they tried.
Not for those children who got beaten up and bruised and molested by a father or father figure.
Not for those children whose father seemed to love and be proud of anyone else but their children and their achievements.
Not for those children who confuse abuse or rape for love.

Justice

Justice.
It’s such a brazen word, such a mouthful. Justice demands you to take it wholly inside yourself and grapple with it. It doesn’t get sidelined in a second or forgotten by the time it has been said, like peace or hope. It’s a heavy word, it doesn’t sit easy when uttered by one pair of lips and it needs more to join in. It doesn’t ask you whether you will be able to shout it. It has as much sway even when whispered.
Justice is such a brazen word, so much so the ones, who first decry it, are the last ones it reaches.

 

Everyone has a story

There are so many people. They’ve so many stories. Sometimes they reflect a certain degree of discontentment, and their lips shiver and their eyes… They become wet, and then they let us explore a side of theirs no one ever could. There are so many with the tragedy of partition, there are so many mothers waiting for their son to come home, from that late night party, drooling of disgust, drunk and inebriated, and the strict fathers getting that phone call that their son didn’t make it through the accident.

There are so many lovers trying their best to help the other, the girl with that golden smile, left alone in the dark of the city, waiting to be rescued, and you see from the far away corner of the road, her smile glowing frequently. There are so many grandmothers taking care of their druggie grandchildren.

The echoes of these stories are heard thoroughly by every passerby, and these stories continue to echo, for days and days and years and centuries.

“My son, was the best son.”
“We gifted him a car. It killed him.”
“I loved him, but he left me.”
“Addicts never change.”

And they prevent us from sleeping.

Honesty in a fake society

There is and old saying “It’s better to be slapped with the truth than kissed with a lie” and I am among a very selected few that actually believe this rings true. People say they want the truth but in reality they want you to say what they want to hear.

Maybe it’s me there is problem with, maybe I need to stop being honest with people. I mean what’s the point upfront and honest with people when they would be happier living a lie and having you consign for it. They say ignorance is a bliss maybe that’s why intelligent people go insane, it is truly burden to know and feel so much and know there is no way a good majority of people will ever able to understand, share and or appreciate your thoughts, gestures and opinions. People are so used to other lying and being fake, honesty is now taboo. People look for hidden meaning in words that have none because everyone is so accustomed to bullshit; no one says what they really mean.

One thing you can always count on me for you is to take my words at face value and this is why I now stay to myself. I don’t fit in this society or this generation; I’m not plastic enough.

 

The Art of Listening

When someone comes to you to rant about an issue that may seem ‘insignificant’ to you, hear them out. And never tell them how other people have it worse and/or quote instances from your own life of issues that seem ‘bigger’ to you, completely disregarding their problem thus. For at times, all that people need is a person willing to listen to them, however little sense they make and simply be, if not anything else. And doing something of that sort does not just drive them further in their problem but also adds on a sense of insecurity and inferiority; and a guilt in them for having approached someone for an issue so ‘wee’, resulting into something as drastic as them never breaking out of their own shell and opening up again.

Doesn’t harm lending someone an ear for a while, does it?

\

Through the Years

When looking back to all these years, I felt like I was treading through treacle. I have laughed, smiled, cried and winced as I tripped down memory lane. I felt like I was standing in a large cine theater watching someone else’ life, yet, it was mine. What have I learned throughout this lengthy process? I have learned that I finally like me just as I am. You see as I flipped through the photos of my life I saw I had never been to me I was only a shadow of the woman I am created to be. I also saw over recent years I have filled the hurt and voids with so many unnecessary things, which left me constantly feeling overwhelmed. As I let go, the tears may have flowed but a simple truth remained the things most precious to me are not mere things but my family and friendships and these cannot be stored or collected but require daily connection and appreciation. The clutter will never replace our basic human need to be valued and appreciated and share the love we came to earth with. I feel much lighter and more focused on loving those I am blessed to have in my life.

My Hope

My hope is someday my words are weaponized and used for good.
Poetic weaponry used to discourage hate.
Words that hit the soft places, like a boxer dissecting his opponent.
Combinations and rhythm that quickly catch your attention, but leave you defenseless.
A volley that ends with a period and there’s nothing left to say.
I want the most violent thing a person ever uses to just be words….

Strength is not destroying your enemy, but changing them inside, changing their mind.

The Freedom Illusion

We live in a world where, we can be fired by what we post online, for what our hobbies are, and for being an actual individual when we are off the clock. Books like “1984” and movies like “V for Vendetta” can only get the ideals of a broken society correct, but by the time literature or a movie become classic, they are buried under the actual dated assumption by which they will actually be introduced. The prediction of results however, will always be the same, and apparently too late to notice until our freedoms are destroyed.

This time, those freedoms are under a buffer-barrier. The basis of speech is free but the mediums at which we are allowed to talk never are. For instance, Facebook has become the facilitator for our communication, but because the medium platform that we are able to get the word out is owned, we are regulated due to such ownership.

In my country, people who spread fake news, orchestrate massive hate and racism campaigns on the internet, send rape threats and death threats and spread every sort of bile go scot- free; while people who spread the truth and fight for the right are either sentenced to jail, end up losing their job, or get death and rape threats. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why.

It Doesn’t Matter

Sometimes people allow their past hurts to keep them down, the he said, she said, he did, she did to stop you from progressing. But no one really stops you from being great, from having more, from being more other than yourself. Okay so that job didn’t work out, that friendship didn’t last, that marriage failed, but now what? What are you going to do in order to keep progressing in life? Never allow your past failures to be who you are now. They were obstacles that you overcame. As long as you allow your past to dictate your current and future situation you will always be stuck. Get out there and prove everyone wrong, get out there and make it happen, get out there and get your own. Don’t stay bitter and angry…don’t allow your past to control your happiness. Because while you are focused on the people who hurt you, guess what. ..they are LOVING life.