Saudis under the Mask

Shaken like a rug full of dust, I was moved by the murmur of your honey-filled words. They were sweet enough to attract the bees, and yet they crush my bones, so I had to make mosaics out of them. They crushed my teeth and scarred my skin so that I cannot do anything but collect all that damage and wear it like a diamond necklace. They intoxicate me—fill me with a venomous air that my blood freezes, even as it is hot like our August summers— even as I am warm-blooded. My skin, a tapestry of my ancestors, is traced with scars of honey-filled, poisonous, and sugar-glazed wounds of you. Words fill your mouth as if they were pomegranate molasses, and I should savor their sweetness, but I find them sour, instead. They send bullets to my skin, and I have no more air left— no more room left to scream. Instead, I wear my scars like a diamond necklace in the middle of a funeral, and yet you rip it off my neck and cr...

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.

As I grasp onto the remnants of my sanity, my thoughts stumble to the pits of emptiness, cascading down the river of oblivion. I lose myself to the demons of sorrow and lose my words to madness altogether. I scream until I have no voice remaining, and I scream myself to nothingness.

The fruits of evergreens are fragrant, and so is the whiff of warm vanilla. I am neither; I am a woman, my love; I smell like independence, knowledge, and willpower. I smell like the sunset after a long day. My love― my fragrance is the break of dawn, declaring new hope. My fragrance is light.

Tick, tock, tick, tock, an imprisoned scream erupts within me, scraping my throat like sandpaper. I, running amid the emptiness waiting for your molten lava of tears to shower on me. Tick, tock, tick, tock, the boundaries between us drift apart, and I run, and run, and run. I am running out of air. I fall, into the abyss of oblivion. I fall, breathless and out of time.

Your effervescence, the way it encompasses me, like the rays of the sun, sheltering me between your ribs, and enveloping me amid the dark chaos. I was left alone, stranded under the storm, with no safe haven. Standing here, in this merciless, earsplitting silence, and I call for you, but there’s no answer. Your warmth, now nonexistent, is replaced with a dark cold, sending shivers down my body, all caused by your absence. Your silence.

01:14:06AM        This was the last thing I ever expected to happen to me. At least, not right now. As I was restless and preoccupied with my train of thoughts, a jolt of panic went back to my head, questioning my existence and what I’ve done throughout my time here. I, for one thing, am an overjoyed person that can hardly suppress his laugh towards any possible joke. I, for another thing, can barely overcome my tears. I, a human filled with raw emotions, have failed to cover my feelings during all times. 01:14:55AM        I was lying on my bed when I looked outside the open window; my face became aghast with unsettlement when a thought occurred to me: the night’s darkness will envelope me in a few minutes, and I will be gone. Breathing in heavy intakes of air, I shot up from my bed and reached for my mother’s notebook. My engagement ring glinted in the dark as I flipped through the pages, and my voice hitched when I said my fiancée’s name thr...

       My gaze lingers upon the night sky, and I find nothing but mere shapes that envelope our dreams amidst the darkness. We are the ones who acknowledge the moon and its beauty, and yet the stars have been shining independently, without the need to let another element illuminate them. Amidst the darkness, they shine the most. Amidst the hopelessness, they shine even brighter .        Defying the laws of grieving, they grow even stronger during adversity. I never took the moon as a source of beauty, nor the sun; I believe in the beauty of stars. Even as they appear smaller and more fragile in contrast, they grew up needless of help. Then I wished to be, more than ever, an illuminescent star that shines during the darkest of times.