Coming Home

20190414_203019.jpgOn failed attempts of coming home, wrong priorities and learning better.

Art by Barooja (IG @barooja)

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Autumn in March

20190411_155405.jpgI combined words I’d written at different points in life for this one.

What I aim to communicate through these words is the feeling of every day being mundane, possibility not exciting you anymore and being hopeless.

This Place

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Every place I’ve stayed in or been to gives rise to certain feelings. Often, I subconsiously relate places to objects, colours and certain words. (Is that some sort of synesthesia?)

This is one of those poems, about one particular place.

 

(Side note: If any of you would like to connect on Goodreads, be sure to leave your username in the comments. Here, my latest reads are updated in the menu section in the upper right corner ♡)

Udhampur- a charged tranquility

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At the little silver of time between  twilight and darkness, the 3 of us had made it to Udhampur. Right away, we were met with a beautiful sunset that was one with the horizon, just reaching up to the sky . 20180530_233135.jpg
Everything was silent even though a number of cars were on the road.
We sat in the backseat, listening to 80’s tunes that we didn’t even like, we drove over a low lying, small settlement that was dense with dimmed fluorescent bulbs , it looked secluded and quaint, we held our breath and craned our necks till we left it behind.
Sped through a few tunnels here and there, felt peaceful but wide awake for the first time in a long time .
Amaan kept urging me to notice my own presence, to notice the movement of the wheels on the road; which I later learnt is a form of meditation, being here, being present.
We took turns to rest our heads on the window and watched as the sky grew darker and more lights came on.

– Saadia

Spring

 

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Its beautiful.

The tiny velvet blue petals and white dandelions, the sparrow and its hearth, the pine. The budding grass, lush and young, the marbled columns, long roads and the singing of the rare scarlet bird. Its magic and I have fallen for it many times but there is this dark place inside, where the night reigns and stars peek through sometimes, smoke and carnage, broken bones and tired limbs, grey and raven, overlapping and drowning, spring has not found a home yet. Not yet.

– Saadia

Warmth

  1. 2017-02-08-18-23-57-842.jpgYou may have a dark sky

Fractured by city lights

But I have an orange veil

That reminds me of summer nights.

And a promise that the sky holds

Our dreams and our ambition

Trying to make a sense

Out of one broken world.

So today, I pick up the pieces

And arrange them skyward

And I know that these colors

Will be enough

To form another sunset

Tinged with the warmth

Of a last hug.

– Saadia

Run

images-6Run, kid, run till your lungs ache and your shins split open. Run till you leave the dead earth hanging on the shattered horizon. Run, leave the immaculate fields behind, plains where the grass is too green, run and strip the unnecessary. Run, love, run till your eyes have drowned in an ocean of stinging tears, run till the trees drift away into an illusional distance. Run till the rain has drenched your bones and the snow nestles in your hair. Run till you are carved raw, run till you find the abode of your demons and the abbey of your angels, run , for the sake of your damned life, run. Run till colours drink themselves up in the sky and the night folds into herself.

– Saadia