Born Confused

The river starts out small in the mountains selfish, cold and small, however clear and beautiful to marveled at it’s purity. Ice tis is. The sun, slowly exposes it and a drop mixes into the earth nurturing plants as it’s root cells attach to the H20 b/c of an baffling love of the water for baboons love the flies they pick for lunch. Sustainability. And the drops move into waters and thus into streams guarded heavily by mother trees and get are excused or going down slippery slops. It inaugurates more water, more plants, more rocks, more organisms, more leptons—hadrons—quarks! All in the mathematical dance of flames dawn. The stream–you– recoils, flinch, shrinks, and a froth is born, and rapids are worn, and the rocks are placed and mistakes are made. Arrogantly we think we are a sage and then suddenly the drop is introduced and life has undergone a coup. The waterfall comes and a secret is instilled and we pray on the Last Day we will not be billed. Angry we can be, for hurt inflicts us, bittersweatlovehurthappiness is with us, The question is whilst we be in sajood in the rapids and calm waters? Will we be able to see through the water that carries us to the ocean—our ultimate destination? Will we see Allah’s embrace, His presence all around us like the water, God is the water. Will we bow deeply in the water and hear moving water’s silence as our tears of pain—of salt are carried away and eased until we feel melchanoy, happy, hurt, knowingly content and pleased. Kindly on our knees—leveled with the part stolen from our heart and replaced with a godly smart: selfless, patience wisdom.
now I must depart.

BWHAHAHHAAHA

The strength and joy of this man amazes me. He looks tired. I see his exhaustion, how he pushes himself, how he holds the cheeks of my brothers’ soft skin like he would to sons and how he tells them of the exciting video games at his house. He expertly hides his hard breathing.

All this despite the fact he just came out of the hospital… again.

I pause and speak. And then simply listen. Taking in the undercurrent of love happening within this conversation.

“You look different.”

I blink. “Really?” I give him a split second inquiry with my face that you can read like a book.

I realize he’s taking me in. I, inside myself note that maybe he’s referring to my loss in weight?… But instead … a moment passes as he leans back.

A certain stillness, a mood revealing how I feel inside… takes over.

I didn’t expect him to continue.

“You look thoughtful.”

I look at him.

My brother pipes up: “It the flashdrive,” pointing to my covered neck.

piece of advice:
ballu: sometimes people worry so much because they unconsciously percieve themselves as a vital part of the family
and indeed, they are a vital part of the family
but the rizq is always with Allah
I’ve seen it in my own family
when one source or stream of income is reduced or taken away, then Allah automatically opens another door
at first I would worry
now … I don’t, not at all

genocide, civil war, civil strive within a country? within borders man made classifications and boxes we put ourselves and dehumanize–we scrutinize for no reason, blood flows, hearts pump, love’s arts gives us all a lump, a strange feeling, , a hindrance, an ability–a security. But it’s nemesis: they call it genocide the wiping out, the distance relative of your mother– nay it’s between brother and brother there’s no such thing as a murder to no other.