My home, is filled with many Rooms,
Each with its own articles,
Stories to tell with each fork and knife,
Plates which have inscribed in them entire novels,
You can digest each syllabal, each vowel leaving you in awe,
Your mouth round from the shape it has taken,
Glasses of Lassi are sipped at table,
It is sweet, due to my lack of salt ,
An incredible lack in my Asianness,
I cannot gift bitterness to my guests,
This is my home now,
I decide what I offer as Gifts,
I can only bring fourth alms of sweetness and encouragement,
My home hosts rooms vast in emotion ,
Grief, Death, Loss, Love, Hope, Fire,
Each taking up different volumes,
As if a Library,
All with a string of Creativity weaved into each Binder,
Some stream out poetry ,
Whilst others leak paint out of my fingers,
All rooms host my tears,
As they bear witness to the emotions and not judge it,
Recently, I have been setting some Rooms on Fire.
Extinguishing the Old,
To bring in the New,
I am Establishing the Power of I,
Recognising that I am not the Words they say I am,
Neither should I succumb and thrash under their Gaze,
For too long I went from bending my spine into small places to Hide from Her,
To then be fooled to think I could Stand, by the same people who taught me about Love
Only to find myself having to be a Contortion artist,
Forcing my Spine to Spin webs it couldn’t find home in,
The Spider in me, was not safe in its own unique Geometry,
Instead I wound myself up in Boxes premade for me,
Ideas of Who I should’ve been,
It’s Wild,
How I still Grieve over Them,
Days where I am in shock,
That Those that Loved me have Lost their ability to Love,
A whole emotion which for me is Neverending ,
Love is lifeless,
It is Unending , beyond any speech , or time,
Death taught me that lesson,
Love transcends our bodily forms,
We are merely vehicles in this world.
I see my Lost love’s everywhere,
In memories, embedded in scent, in objects on street corners, in lost humour,
Embedded in Pockets of my timelines,
So how can a Heart Lie and be so full of Malice?
Are they not Muslims they Claim to be?
Am I a Fool for my Belief in Love?
Wasn’t their Love what saved me?
Is Love not the biggest Gift from God?
An area which we have not studied enough,
For too long the Assumptions and Presumptions of what People think I am have seared me,
Carrying weight that isn’t my Own,
As if Boulders were weighing down on Me,
I am just Me,
Evolving,
I am now realising that they are Undeserving of my innocence ,
Untamed I am ,
For believing in Justice
I will remain Stubborn in my fight for Truth
Just like my Father,,
I can see how this Wound has Crippled me,
Ripped me across borders,
My Body Screaming,
It has become Embarrassing,
Truly .
These days,
I have refound the Moorni in my Eyes,
Found the green and blue returning onto my Pallette,
The rejoicing of music in my vision,
I am worshiping the atoms that rotate around me like Dervishes,
Spinning , whilst I become lost in the joys of Living,
I am Breathing in Life finally,
And discovered what it means to be Grateful
Taking Responsibility for I,
For Solely Me, no labels attached,
This new found Awareness,
A vast field of using my Eyes in a different way,
Finding light in this epic darkness ,
I cannot let you take my Home again,
My roots are deep in the earth now,
Entrenched, steady,
Every Practicioner who works on me,
Repeatedly tells me of the Distress my flesh is in,
Even whilst in Paradise,
They speak of Miscarriages as if I am birthing Pain,
Others, talk of how each of my System burns in havoc ,
And even then,
The ones who Loved me
taught me to hide my pain
Dismiss my bleeding body into Nothingness,
Because what more can a Wombs use be,
Then if not a Vessel for A Child,
Despite all the bullets shot at my home,
I will bite all my tongues ,
To ensure I do not sear any lungs,
Before I would constantly ask for Forgiveness,
Break my limbs to at least have them Near,
But I have lost words this time,
I know what has been Spoken and what cannot be Unheard,
My Silence is enough.
Maybe in my Death they will know.
The End has Awoken me.