Saudis under the Mask

I told you once that that life only gives to take, and if it gives you something grand, then that is only because it intends on taking something in equal grandness. I remember you disagreeing, as if I was your case against the world in that belief. I remember the way you used to talk about forever as if it was your own mother; the safety of it that you strongly believe in. How was I to tell you that even with our swords held high, there is no guarantee that we shall win every war? That even if the love is real, we can never control the circumstances? So here comes today, the distance you swore you'd never keep between us. The swords are still high, but this time we stand on opposite ends. God knows I'd drop my sword and cross the distance if only I knew you wanted me to win this war. So as I stand alone, terrified of what tomorrow might bring, I walk the streets we used to take. Under that streetlight where we said our goodbyes, I stand. I look up and see that flickering stre...

I rose out of my body, and looked at the world from a different view. It was beautiful—nothing like I excepted it to be. I’m floating like there is no one else in this world; like I’m the only one up there looking down at how small the world is—how small everything is. I noticed some luminous dots on Earth. They light themselves up for other people just like stars do. They were streetlights in midwinter. In a dark atmosphere, they were the only ones shining. But then I asked myself: do they shine for themselves?

المرأة  كلمة تحمل بين حروفها القوة والإصرار  كلمة تحمل بين حروفها العزم وعدم الاستسلام كلمة تحمل بين حروفها الرحمة والشفقة المرأة هي أم ، ابنة ، زوجة وجدة . المرأة هي التي ربت الأجيال الصاعدة التي عملت على تطوير العالم. المرأة هي التي عمرت الأرض  . المرأة هي من ربت الحكام والملوك وجعلت منهم رجالا يهابهم المرء . المرأة هي الوحيدة القادرة على تحمل كل أعباء الحياة ومع ذلك ترى الابتسامة مرسومة على وجهها . تعمل كل يوم لتبني مستقبلا وحضارة تميزنا عن غيرنا وتعمل أيضا لترضي أهل بيتها وتعمل بجد واجتهاد لترى الجميع سعيد . لا تظهر ضعفها لأنها تعرف أن هناك من سيستغله . تسهر الليالي لتعمل بجد وإصرار لتترك بصمتها على العالم وتسهر لتعتني بصغارها. ويسألونك من هي المرأة وما هو دورها ، هي الأم التي تسعى لإرضاء أولادها وإسعادهم. هي الابنة التي تبر بوالديها وتسعى في طرق النجاح لترفع رأس أهلها . هي الزوجة التي تعتني بزوجها . هي الجدة التي رأت أثر تربيتها على أحفادها وتفرح للنجاح الذي وصلت له. *هذا رد لكل من استخف بدور المرأة في الحياة وكل من ادعى أن المرأة عبء على المجتمع.*

I get off late from work in the precinct, and I always go back home and fall on the bed in exhaustion. Honestly, if anybody thinks work in forensics has the glamour and suspense of TV, they should quit the dream while they can. Because nothing happens, and everyday is the same. Bad coffee, black eyes, dried pens, dried blood, horrible bosses, disrespectful coworkers, and one good friend in the workplace that you only talk to in the walk back home; if you can muster up the energy to have a conversation. Until he came around. Him, with his dark and messy hair. Him, with his tall and heavy coat that perfectly matches his height. Him, with the speedy way he speaks. A way that I seem to keep up with in some odd and distant way. Him, with his solidarity. A solidarity that is prominent in the dark, under the flickering streetlight. Coming off from work was boring, hell going to that god damn precinct was torture before his royal peculiarity showed up. Before he stood everyday , at ...

I'm walking down the flat, slippery pavement, still wet with rain. Your coat hangs loosely on my shoulders, and your hand limply holding mine. The streetlights are giving off a luminous, yet slightly depressing, glow; barely giving us enough light to see clearly. The silence is deafening, just the clicking of my heels on the concrete ground and your deep, solemn breaths. We stop at my front door, I turn to look at you. Curtains of thick, brown hair hide your face. A nervous trick you've adopted over time. You've always found it hard to open up, you never tell me how you feel. Your skin is translucent under the streetlights' glow, I can see the streams of blue and green veins on your tired face. Your nails are chewed to the nub. Your eyes, empty and glassed over. We exchange simple goodbyes, then you disappear into the darkness, the glow of the streetlights swallowing you whole. I stand there, with your coat still wrapped around me. I breathe a warm, foggy ...

The flicker of red, the beam of yellow, and the fluorescent shade of white that churns my stomach every time I look below. I see bloodstains seeping into the slits of concrete blocks. I shiver. My heart quakes, and I fall beneath the sickening lights of streetlights.

Daughter of the Desert: I’m the daughter of the golden sun. The star that guides you to your journey’s end. I’m the independent, the persistent. I’m the scream of riots, and the whisper of revolutions. I’m the jewel of this land, and the pioneer of its borders. I’m strong, I’m resilient, and I am the daughter of the desert.

Like a streetlight, I saw the path I was supposed to walk under your guidance. Like a streetlight, you led me from a place to another in complete silence. like a streetlight, You saw through the empty part of me and showed me how it brightens. But as a streetlight, you’d disappear with no sign. My eyes would search for you any glimpse of you that I could find. Then you’d come back again with the light of a thousand stars promising to leave me blind. You see, you are a lot of things present and absent cruel and kind Infact, you are all of them combined.

في خريف الذاكرة أوراقٌ متساقطة صنعتها أنتِ - لازمتك سنين طويلة لحين سقوطها و على عكس ظنها - جميلةٌ أنت بها و دونها . قويةٌ أنت؛ بجذورك، بجذعك، بأغصانك . للخير فيك صورٌ عديدة، حملتها على أزمنةً مديدة . بإنتاجك و ثمره للجائع - بأغصانك و منازلها للطير الجريح اللاجئ - بالسند المتواجد في جذعك - و الأمان و السكون تحت ظلك . للقوة فيك صورٌ و قدوة؛ بشموخ وقوفك في كل حينٍ و زمان بتمسكك بجذورك فوق كل أرضٍ و مكان . في خريف الذاكرة أوراقٌ متساقطة تعود لك يا امرأة صنعتها؛ تكنّ لك بالامتنان يا امرأة سقتها من روحها و علّمتها تكنّ لك يا امرأةً بالامتنان، فلولا الله ثم لولاك لما كانت و لن تكون . في خريف الذاكرة أوراقٌ متساقطة فور ابتعادها عنك جفت و قست - ماتت و فنت . في خريف الذاكرة أنت يا امرأة: شجرة - رمز القوة و العطاء رمز العائلة و السند رمز الحياة و السلام في خريف الذاكرة و ربيع المستقبل الشجرة هي المرأة . عذراً يا امرأة، فأنت أحق بأن تكوني الرمز و الأصل - و الشجرة - مجرد صورة تشابهك كثيراً .