Memories

In 50 years, I see myself as an old woman in her early 70s that has Alzheimer… a woman who tries to recollect her memories… and barely remembers her husband and kids… I think I will forget my friends, some of my family members or maybe most of them… my hobbies…my favorite car…. My favorite color… what I was wearing the day before… and I believe I will be feeling like a stranger…all these memories would be worth remembering but I would trade all of these things with the memory of YOU…

YOU are the only memory I want to have in my whole life… I don’t want to forget any single moment I shared with you… I want to remember your heart beats when you kiss me… your hand when it holds mine… your embrace… your tears when you cry on my shoulder… how your hand fits he curve of my hip perfectly…the look in your eyes… your smile… your laugh… your craziness… your madness… your grumpiness… your beautiful open-heart conversations… and simply… the feeling you give me when you are around me… cheerfulness and security….

Hypocrites!

Some people in our world keep entering our lives and interfere in every single detail.. they keep asking, and giving you their opinions without you asking them to! it's annoying in a way that makes you want to throw up! and what makes me go crazy is that they say they do this because they care, and behind your back is a "FESTIVAL" of gossip! and of course you know what do we call them; Hypocrites! they make you go sick and sometimes I do hate myself for trusting them. I always believed that I shouldn't regret anything, but people of this kind make you regret LIVING!!

Sometimes I wish I could remove every single one of them from my life, or actually delete them! yes like when you erase a message from your phone or delete a post from your blog! but let's consider them as obstacles that were put in our way to make us learn our primary daily lessons.

*sigh* : Life is a bitch and then you die!

ALL I WANT IS...

I want someone to call when I get bored, to sneak me junk food when I'm sick, to understand that I mean the opposite of what I say, someone that will know how to cheer me up, that won't have overwhelming expectations of me, that will feel comfortable around my family, just someone that truly enjoys my company as much as I enjoy theirs...

STELLA!!!

Stella is an Italian word that means "Star"... stars are the only thing in the world that make me dream... make me love and believe... believe that someday the "STELLA" of my life will come and just grab this heart of mine and take me a million miles away from here...

Shayma!!

it had not been a long time since we became close friends but I know we will stay best friends for the rest of our lives...

she is this wonderful young lady who makes you believe in yourself.. no wonder everybody falls for her... adorable........ stunning....... absolutely marvelous.......... she gives you this feeling of comfort when you are around her... when I sit with her I feel that I am just a blessed person to have such a friend... a friend who stands by your side.. supports you... sees the best in you... and makes you happy whenever they tell you: "I am proud of you!!!"

Shayma Zaq............ you are one of the most spectacular people I have ever met.. I will never let you down and I will always be there for you... that is a PROMISE........ you deserve having friends like yourself! you are a magnificent person......... I LOVE YOU!

Excerpts from Under Siege - Mahmoud Darwish

Excerpts from Under Siege

by Mahmoud Darwish
translated by Marjolijn De Jager

Here on the slopes of hills, facing the dusk and the cannon of time
Close to the gardens of broken shadows,
We do what prisoners do,
And what the jobless do:
We cultivate hope.

A country preparing for dawn. We grow less intelligent
For we closely watch the hour of victory:
No night in our night lit up by the shelling
Our enemies are watchful and light the light for us
In the darkness of cellars.

Here there is no "I".
Here Adam remembers the dust of his clay.

You who stand in the doorway, come in,
Drink Arabic coffee with us
And you will sense that you are men like us
You who stand in the doorways of houses
Come out of our morningtimes,
We shall feel reassured to be
Men like you!

When the planes disappear, the white, white doves
Fly off and wash the cheeks of heaven
With unbound wings taking radiance back again, taking possession
Of the ether and of play. Higher, higher still, the white, white doves
Fly off. Ah, if only the sky
Were real [a man passing between two bombs said to me].

Cypresses behind the soldiers, minarets protecting
The sky from collapse. Behind the hedge of steel
Soldiers piss—under the watchful eye of a tank—
And the autumnal day ends its golden wandering in
A street as wide as a church after Sunday mass . . .

[To a killer] If you had contemplated the victim’s face
And thought it through, you would have remembered your mother in the
Gas chamber, you would have been freed from the reason for the rifle
And you would have changed your mind: this is not the way
to find one’s identity again.

The siege is a waiting period
Waiting on the tilted ladder in the middle of the storm.

Alone, we are alone as far down as the sediment
Were it not for the visits of the rainbows.

We have brothers behind this expanse.
Excellent brothers. They love us. They watch us and weep.
Then, in secret, they tell each other:
"Ah! if this siege had been declared . . . " They do not finish their sentence:
"Don’t abandon us, don’t leave us."

Our losses: between two and eight martyrs each day.
And ten wounded.
And twenty homes.
And fifty olive trees . . .
Added to this the structural flaw that
Will arrive at the poem, the play, and the unfinished canvas.

Oh watchmen! Are you not weary
Of lying in wait for the light in our salt
And of the incandescence of the rose in our wound
Are you not weary, oh watchmen?

A little of this absolute and blue infinity
Would be enough
To lighten the burden of these times
And to cleanse the mire of this place.

In the state of siege, time becomes space
Transfixed in its eternity
In the state of siege, space becomes time
That has missed its yesterday and its tomorrow.

The martyr encircles me every time I live a new day
And questions me: Where were you? Take every word
You have given me back to the dictionaries
And relieve the sleepers from the echo’s buzz.

The martyr enlightens me: beyond the expanse
I did not look
For the virgins of immortality for I love life
On earth, amid fig trees and pines,
But I cannot reach it, and then, too, I took aim at it
With my last possession: the blood in the body of azure.

The siege will last in order to convince us we must choose an enslavement that does no harm, in fullest liberty!

Resisting means assuring oneself of the heart’s health,
The health of the testicles and of your tenacious disease:
The disease of hope.

Greetings to the one who shares with me an attention to
The drunkenness of light, the light of the butterfly, in the
Blackness of this tunnel!

Greetings to the one who shares my glass with me
In the denseness of a night outflanking the two spaces:
Greetings to my apparition.

My friends are always preparing a farewell feast for me,
A soothing grave in the shade of oak trees
A marble epitaph of time
And always I anticipate them at the funeral:
Who then has died . . . who?

Pieces of my heart... by Rana Safi

I used to tell you I’ll wait for you forever… but I think forever is just too long!

You used to tell me I am an angel… but angels make mistakes sometimes…
You used to say I am a queen… but kingdoms fall sometimes…

I was such a little girl ran away from the whole world to knock innocently on your door so you can help her and make her feel safe… she felt your tenderness but she couldn’t reach it… and she tried to hold on to you but you kept letting her down… its not your fault, she understands… but her heart beats for you in a strange way, she never felt it before… in a way that she believes she can hear you talk and feel your pain…

But her pain was stronger than yours and that made her want to hold on tighter to you… because she knows you are the only one who knows her and accepts the way she is… but her pain became stronger because she couldn’t even talk to you…or at least hear your breath on the other side…

Her innocent knocks tried to break the door of your heart and they couldn’t… and she left with a heart that became a million little pieces… but she figured out that the biggest piece is left at your door… and you are the only one who can heal her heart….

*Sigh* : She's wonderfully lost!

Copyright ©2009 Rana Safi

A girl from heaven sent this letter to me...

Dear Rana Safi,

IM FALLING FOR YOU! Hehe, this is a letter coming not only from the heart and brain, but from every inch of my veins, blood, and soul. First of all, I bow down to the queen!! She really is one… And don’t think queens are stuck up, prissy, unintelligent girls. NO, there powerful, strong, and confidant. exactly what you are. Hmmmm queen rana. Labe2lek! I have known you more than anyone in this country, wow and that’s a long time! MEMORIES. LAUGHS. TALKS. FOOD. And our family’s!! Remember when you came over once and we started playing with my penguins and taking pictures of our selves. Yeaaaa it was a sweet night (Musa7eel adeh kona habayel).And yet I Cant wait to meet Mr. Right, go to the wedding, be the maid of honor, see the babies, and write you another letter! Because you are MY friend and I’m stuck with you till forever. I respect you! I am proud of you! And I don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but you are one hell of a special person. So again I bow down. Head up, shoulders back, ready?….. Its going to be a long journey…. And frankly I CANT WAIT!! Ba7ebek.


With love,
Rema Sider

People!

It's funny how we postpone things.. I made this blog on 4-12-2009 and I didnt even get the chance to write till now. Sometimes we wonder what really make us busy? is it us being lazy or being really not in the mood for sharing anything after a long tiring day? I dont know.. I decided to start today because I always wanted to share my thoughts with people from different backgrounds, maybe because I adore walking in the streets and looking at them, talking.. walking.. screaming... laughing... running... it makes me wonder what do they have in their minds? are they really in a hurry? or maybe feeling sad? I keep looking at their faces and sometimes I wish I could read minds.. sometimes I believe that when I look out of the car window I know there must be a good person looking for love or who has a great character and charisma, also I am sure there is a bad one out there trying to hide himself and never want to walk in the light... right now... There are some people in the streets looking for a warm place to spend the night at.. some are in their houses sleeping and feeling cozy... others are crying in the middle of the night... some are fighting... some are reading and others are writing.. and believe me great writers enjoy writing at any time and any place.. as long as they have something to write with...