A Poetry

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A Thread

Call me a lover with fireworks in the eyes
But tonight I am writing about you
The words out of pure connection
Along the lines
Will we ever learn how to quit?
Goodbye to the daisies in the streets
But not to the dream fort of our life
The garden is growing a kingdom
Illuminated, breathing soft
Of bluebells welcoming your presence
That echoes mine under your wing
as we are each other’s home

Redress

In her own fears she looks through her shadows
I watch her from the horizon with flowers for algernon
in hands, pondering whether the lines are connecting
or they never were

At times like this dreams are safer than the voices
But sometimes it’s just her longing
with the side effect of pills
visualizing her fears, into reality

It’s kicking in, things can be seen
The sea is calling, he is calling
I wish I can do something
but where do I keep the voices?

Fill What’s Unfilled

I always carry an inexplicable curiosity of finding myself, trying to reach the next trace from where I am now to where I want to be. So I tried to find pieces of me in reading, painting, writing, walking, talking; by running around in every place only to realize it is already within me. Within my name. Because to find yourself is to explore your own name at a great depth, the name that makes who you are, the name that holds the strongest weapon; a prayer.

A past few days I had a conversation with Hazwani, bouncing the meaning behind our names off considering there is a bottom line of how names can influence life outcomes. Back then, I didn’t quite understand why my mother gave me the name Nur Fatehah regardless of I am the youngest child in the family. The irony is that it’s an Arabic name that roughly translated as ‘light’ and ‘first’. When I asked my mother, she gave me a simple answer yet so profound: “You are God’s gift that shines for someone for the first time or the only time.” I knew instantly she was referring me to hope. The first hope. Or maybe the only hope of something. It’d been awhile since my mother said it and when Hazwani and I talked about this, she told me something that reminds me of my mother’s answer:

“It’s funny how people think when we said ‘first’, it doesn’t mean it’s the starter of everything. It could be the first and the last all together. And your name is not ironic for having cahaya pertama despite the fact that you’re the last child, you could actually become a beginning of something else.

I guess you are living up to your name because the first one to ignite is most likely to endure the most.”

Personally, what I find absolutely extraordinary in looking into our names is that others may understand our names better than we are, and in fact, there is no right or wrong in terms of clarifying it. There is no misinterpretation nor precise interpretation. Therefore, it is only how you actually see your name illustrates the idea of who you truly are.

You see, you can try finding yourself all places in this world but in the long run, you’ll come back to your own name. These people that I truly appreciate, they help me to understand myself better. It’s a revelation of what am I, what can I give – I am probably the only shooting star that you have been waiting all this time, fighting for hope. Or I am probably the first light you see when you open your eyes on a new day, knowing there is hope to cherish.

Set Forth

I don’t occasionally come up with great ideas and great explanations all at the same time but when I do, I find myself lack of interest to share with people. So I keep them inside my head until I forget.

If I were to say one thing that I take notice of what I’ve been doing unintentionally, itwould be this: I am constantly missing out. Off and on I have overlooked for what is directly in front of me; it’s either I look at things too far or I look at them too closely. Opportunities. Decisions. People. Kindness. Love. To me, 2015 was an actual mess. Not because I missed these things from one end to the other, but because I already had them at the beginning. However, life has a funny way of showing it through passing time – until you decide to wake up one morning and suddenly you become aware of what you’re actually missing.

It only makes sense looking back. It’s easy to find yourself thinking, “Oh! I should have done that,” “What was I thinking back then?” or “Things would be different now if I made it” but what’s harder to me is to accept what you actually did. There’s always a hypothetical scenario inside the head to give in. Another story from the future to flee. Another regret from the past to dwell. But thoughts are only thoughts. Just because they’re happening inside your head doesn’t mean they are also happening on the outside. Like all things that we lose, there are also things that come to us. Meanwhile we’re too busy spending too much time on our own second guesses – to some extent, we disregard the fact there’s more ahead us. More opportunities. More decisions. More people. More kindness. More love. Maybe what’s been waiting for us is completely different from the ones we missed, but they’re going to be better things.

Last year I took most things for granted. And to me it’s prudent to be more grateful, for the things that missed me, and for the things that I missed. I suppose if these things; the unmade choices and the overlooked chances, if these are bound for the future, they will always find their own ways to come back. If they didn’t, then it’s another different story to unfold. And right now, it comes to my understanding that I feel compelled to keep moving forward in order to repay all the missing chances and slipping success. Hence will I still keep missing things? Yes I’m afraid so. But here’s the question to self: Will there be an urge to start all over- the rage of carrying on in spite of the inevitable turns that will only make you doubt yourself?