The Fall of Youth

In the arrogance of youth, the green leaf looked at the aging brown leaves with contempt
Basking in the sun, it pitifully looked as another colored leaf fell away

But ,it was Fall
And the falling leaves gracefully whispered,  "we will all meet on the ground"....

What a pompous mistake; to mistake our youth as a permanent season....

Hiba

Building or Breaking...

 I find myself doing what I'm doing a lot of in this season....thinking 

We think so much before breaking something. Despite, having more facts in our favor. Despite knowing why we are breaking something . We only consider breaking something when it's creation has subtracted more than it has added. When it's existence  does not allow co existence of our peace, happiness and dignity . There are less unknowns in breaking because you know exactly what it is that you are breaking 

Yet,  we are encouraged to happily build. We build homes and lives with people on hope and promises. With no assurance of what the result will be, yet we jump to building. We invest so much of ourselves,  we pour so much from ourselves to build. With far less certainty of what will be built,  with many more variables,  we don't think as much or as hard about the risky endeavor of building. 

Why then do we fear breaking those same things? We break with knowledge that we didn't have at the time of building which makes it a safer decision.

Yet, breaking seems more serious than building.  The future is unknown in both but breaking happens after you know...

To break or continue with what was built?

HT

Sacred Places

We celebrate the butterfly and the metamorphosis of the caterpillar
But, what about the cocoon?
The place that held space

We celebrate the revelations of God and the Prophet
But, what about the cave?
The place that offered solitude

We celebrate the baby and parenthood
But what about the womb?
The place that selflessly offered nourishment

Places matter
They hold space
They offer grace

Be the place,  be the space, be the grace because places matter..

Hiba 

Mouthfuls...

 

I see you rummaging through my mouth in hopes of finding love
I guess you fail to notice that my lips are bruised from years of trying to breathe air into our relationship

Where I once had mouthfuls of love, conversation, grievances for you; I now have nothing

What your tongue so impatiently seeks to find was swallowed a long time ago
You will now only find emptiness and silence where once was a mouthful....

Hiba

Blood and Tears

 
Just like you let your menstrual blood flow , why don't you let your tears just go?

We know our menstrual blood is part of our divine feminine power
We accept it with grace and maturity
We don't mourn our lost blood every month
Because we know it must go, it has served its purpose
Once we let go, we can rebuild

Why then do we not treat our tears the same way?
Why don't we offer our tears the same space, the same grace that we offer our menustral blood?

Rather than stopping its flow,  hiding it,denying it
Why don't we just offer it a place to go?

They are both come from deep within us
They are both born from hope,  from life
Both result from life that didn't happen

So, embrace them both
For they are divine reminders that somethings have served their purpose
And we must honor them by letting them go with grace

Hiba

Let It Go...

 It will have to be removed

For it's unhealthy
Surgically removed because it threatens the well being of the whole

We have tried alternatives.
Less invasive measures,more natural options
But it's aggressive,  it is relentless
It doesn't respond to softer measures

In removing it, I also lose a part of myself
That's sadly how disease,relationships, life are
To remove the toxic piece,  you lose a part of yourself

But then again,  is losing a part of yourself better than risking losing your whole self?
We must let it go when it threatens our wellbeing
We must understand that it no longer serves a purpose

With grace, with grief,  with conviction
But we must let it go.....

Hiba 

The Funerals We Attend

 These funerals exhaust me

I have attended so many
Some of loved ones, some of loved parts of loved ones

I may have missed some, life gets busy
Some funerals are very quiet, very lonely
I'm the only one there
Just me and the deceased
We both look so familiar yet so different

It's always the heart
The first to beat in the human body, the first to stop beating
It's always the heart that makes us alive
It's always the heart that makes us die

Some funerals are  of a heart that gave too much
Some of a heart that forgave too much
Some of a heart that felt too much

How much deeper do we bury these people
The child, the girl, the woman
I wonder what killed them
Hope, forgiveness, abuse,  anger,  resilience, sadness?
Does it matter?

I walk away from some of these funerals relieved
That she's free at last , at peace at last, gone at last.

I wonder how many more funerals of myself  I will need to attend.....

Hiba