And then...?

Ah Ya Albi

I walk away and search for your hand, for your arm to cling on to.
I can't believe what we just did.
I feel almost paralysed.
Everything I do, reminds me of you.
I walk to my desk, and I see you there, reading the latest news, uploading and admiring your photos.
I walk to my room, and smell the pillow your head laid opon, the sheets your body slept on.
Baby, you smell so beautiful.
I hug your pillow and wait to feel your kiss on my forehead, for you to play with my hair...
And suddenly remember it is just a pillow.
I lay there all night, reminiscing, praying, yearning...
There is no difference between day and night.
Hours pass and 8am comes.
I wait for you to come wake me.
I wait for your sweet kiss.
I walk from my room to your room.
"Habibi..."
No answer.
I come to have breakfast.
Mum puts me some hlawet el jibn...
"Sassine likes that" I say.
Food has lost it's taste.
I get my things ready to go to uni, and stumble across the shells we collected that sweet day at the beach.
I remember the rock you reminded me about and run to the jacket.
I smell the bonfire and cannot get enough.
I look in the pockets and find the beanie you wore...
The funny blue and black one with the pompom.
I get dressed and spray Kenzo...
You liked that.
I come across the 'magic powder'...
The one I carried around with the brush everywhere.
I don't need it today.
I get in the car, and it's, you guessed it, Tony Kiwan.
I put on your favourite station.
It doesn't sound the same without holding hands.
On the train I spot two lovers.
Neyaloun.
I fondle for my sunnies and hope that no-one can see through them.
The 35 minute train ride feels like 35 hours.
I make my way to uni.
I don't want to catch the tram, and though time is not permitting, I walk up to uni, along the road we both walked along.
I sit on the bench you waited for me on.
I walk into my lecture and my friend says to me "how are you?"
I choke on my words.
She hugs me, but all I feel is you.
I call your mobile, I know you cannot answer, you are still on the plane, but I still wait for you to pick up.
"Habibi?... Habibi?"
I wear my pyjamas, and put on your slippers.
It's only 3pm, but feels like 3 weeks since you left.
I sort out the papers on my desk and come across the CD you burned for me.
I hope one day I can view these photos.
Right now, I am not game enough.
"Sasso?... Habibi?"
Redd 3allayi.
Please come back...
And never EVER leave me again.

Can't find the words...

...Perfect...

END this Violence NOW

And every child deserves a LIFE

Thanks to AM www.moithinkingoutloud.blogspot.com

It's Never Between You & Them Anyway

In these troublesome times, we may be tempted to feel anger, hatred, and sometimes been on the verge of losing all hope. Whenever tempted, remember these assuring words of Mother Teresa.

People are often unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.

If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.

If you are successful you will win some false friends and true enemies.
Succeed anyway.

If you are honest and frank, people may cheat you.
Be honest and frank anyway.

What you spend years building, someone could destroy overnight.
Build anyway.

If you find serenity and happiness, they may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.

The good you do today, people will often forget tomorrow.
Do good anyway.

Give the world the best you have, and it may never be enough.
Give the world the best you've got anyway.

You see, in the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.

Hope they will motivate you as much as they have inspired me (now and in the past).

Peace to you all.

Smile... even through your tears

These times are hard...

However, we must smile, even through our tears...

We are Lebanese...

We will survive...

Until We Meet Again...

She begins to wake the sleeping sky.
When she reaches out, the ocean responds.
She moves closer and closer to him.
He caresses her.
Simultaneously, she bows her head, chin to chest.
Her arms fall to her sides.
She sinks to her knees.
In one motion.
I watch, anticipate, wait for her next move.
She rises almost magically, and greets the incoming breeze.
They all begin to dance, oh-so-blissfully.
She turns and waves.

It is so beautiful, so captivating, the sun's arrival, when it breaks the surface of the ocean.

Feeling her warmth, I step forward, and imprint the warming sand.
When I look up, they are still dancing, waltzing, with so much passion.
They sway and spin, whirl and swing, to the music they create with the ocean.
Their level of elation, their contentment, is a striking contrast...
A striking contrast of what I witness later when I welcome the night.

Until they meet again...

Until we meet again...

Something Special

I look at this man. He is seated next to his wife, among his children, his family and closest friends. His wife is talking with some women. I'm not sure what about, although I'm sitting right next to her. I'm too busy looking at this man. He is quiet and very frail. He's chewing very slowly and looking at his wife. He's withdrawn... dreamy.
Fifty years. Fifty years of love. Of happiness. Fifty years with this wonderful woman. A woman like no other. The mother of my beloved children. Fifty years... to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish... Through the good times and the bad, we stuck by each other. With respect and understanding, our love grew. In this love, we raised our children. I adore this woman and my admiration for her increases each and every day.
These are the words his eyes spoke. Slowly his eyes meet mine. I feel shy, like I've been 'caught'. Everyone is enjoying their food, laughing and drinking and I seem almost mesmerised by him. I smile timidly and look down at my food. I continue eating. Whilst eating, I continue to take note of this man. Slowly and weakly, with the aid of his daughter, he lifts up his hand and places the next spoonful in his mouth. Each spoonful is such an effort.

This man's son get's up from the table and increases the volume of the music that is playing. It's a song that his father loves. A song by an artist of his father's generation, an artist his father grew up listening and passionately dancing to.

This man's wife gets up from the table and begins to dance. She is not a good dancer, never has been, but she is so happy, that doesn't matter. She is shaking her hips and waving her hands. Soon, everyone is up from the table, dancing and revelling in the warm, family atmosphere. I remain at the table as does the man.

Shortly, his daughter comes and sits next to him. She lovingly holds his hand, so as to console him. He cannot get up so easily, let alone dance like he could fifty years ago. She looks at him but he does not meet his eyes with hers. He cannot. He is just looking at his wife. A tear forms in his eyes.

"Your mum is an amazing person."

His two sons approach him, and one on each of his sides, they lift him. He tries to move his feet but he can only manage to slightly sway his hands. Nevertheless, he tries. He wants to dance so desperately, just like he used to be able to.

Where's the man no one could get off the dance-floor. The man who partied until the early hours of the morning.

He feels useless. My vision blurs slightly. I try to avoid eye-contact with anyone. His daughter seems to notice though. She looks at me, tears streaming down her face.

"My dad is such an amazing person."

Useless? Far from it.

.

Love.

It's just so special.

Two Become One

Two souls, one feeling
Two hearts, one beat
Two heads, one mind
Two mouths, one word
Two feet, one step
Two hands, one touch
Two rings, one bond
Two angles, one view
Two people, one self
Two lives, one shared

The Summer Wind

I feel so much older now than then,
But I still sense a childish splendor when I feel the Summer wind.
It reminds me of hours of play gone by,
and a million unanswered questions of how and why?
I think of friends that I have known and lost,
and of all the bridges that I have burned and crossed.
If we could only stay as children and never learn to hate,
or know the sorrow of finding something out when it was too late.
Yes, I do feel much older now than then,
But I thank God for the splendor I feel in the Summer wind.

When...

When tears never fall, and birds never fly.
When winter never ends, and children never cry.
When the nights are not dark, and the days have no light.
When forever ends, and the eyes have no sight.
When ears cannot hear, and the grass never grows.
When silence is too loud, and the genius never knows.
When strength doesn't strengthen, and flowers never bloom.
When hearts can't be broken, and eternity is too soon.
When the wind never blows, and the rain doesn't wet.
When thunder can't be heard, and the sun refuses to set.
When angels don't protect, and a fact is not true.
When life can't be lived, and the sky is not blue.
When the truth is a lie, and the fake turns real.
When the clock shows no time, and wounds never heal.
When enjoyment isn't fun, and bells cannot ring.
When a race can't be won, and a singer cannot sing.
When pain does not hurt, and enemies never fight.
When rainbows have no color, and something wrong is right.
When all these things happen, when they come true.
That's when I, without a doubt, will stop loving you.

Author Unknown

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.