The Trace

                          

                                                       Hashthemag- Tumblr

I was lying on the roof top one evening, staring at the glowing sky. I was mesmerized by the twinkling stars, how they are so far away yet you can still see their beauty. Then the weirdest thought occurred to me... What am I really bedazzled by? Travelling light?

I say I'm looking at stars, but I'm actually staring at the trace they left behind. It was an illusion.

It reminded me of the people who walk in then walk out of our lives every day. They always leave something behind, something to remember them by. Good memories. Bad memories. Their belongings. Maybe even things they "accidently" left behind.

I think of how they appear to be one person the moment they walk into our lives... how we bond, build trust, create a foundation for the relationship to be built upon... and then think of the person they are when they walk out. You get that feeling that the person walking out that door is a complete stranger.

I remember personally thinking... How could I have not known that he or she would turn out to be like this? How could I have been so blind? How could I have not seen this coming? How could I be so foolish?

I was living an illusion.

Then like everybody else I sit and I mourn, I scream and I yell, I curse and I cry, sooner or later... I move on.

Five years down the line, I meet someone, I become part of his life, we become good friends for three years... maybe even more than friends. And the moment I was in arm's reach of something better, something I thought to be "valuable" at the time, I walk right out of his life and go on like he never existed.

I get a flashback of the person who was very important to me and walked out of my life. And the reality of what I was doing was like a slap in the face.

The person who I walked out on, who was suffering because of me didn't deserve the pain I caused him. And for what... for genuinely caring about me? Who was I to do such a thing?

And, ironically, I followed back the trace I created.

Its so easy for us to walk over each other to get to where we want. But wouldn't it be much easier for us to just let them tag along the journey of success with us?

- Sara Omar

Shakespeare, brownies and warm milk is my kind of cocktail.

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Lion in a Coma

Lion in a coma, lion in a coma
Who wants to smell the fine aroma

Animal Collective

I want to smell the fine aroma

The fine aroma of Leila’s leisurely cigarettes

Not the way she smokes now.

The revolting scent of a hated habit, yearn for most.

As her homeland crumbles, Dunhill Switch to Captain Black she wishes to relax

Yet her pulmonary veins continue to throb, cinnamon sears with every pulse

Destroying her lungs the way the Lions have destroyed everything

Everything.

From her sister’s voice box, bedridden not only by a critical error but by years of rooted terror

That not only choke the throats of my paralyzed Teta but the throats of every Syrian woman, man, child.

“Don’t talk about such things on the phone ya Asma’a”

Don’t talk.

Rip your throat box out before the calamity of the consequences of free speech impend on you

Like they impended on your father

Like they impended on your mother

How can they not see?

You cannot impend upon bravery.

How can you not see?

The Lions will not destroy their bravery.

Mount Vesuvius is no longer dormant

Ashes of withering sorrow knotted in our knuckles

Pompeii hunters seek the informant.

Pointed bullets to the Lion’s den, bullet through his head,

Silence the chuckles.

Lion in a coma, lion in a coma

Freedom is my fine aroma

-Asma Alabed

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