Dandelion

She floats, carried by the soft breeze of a summer's day

Passing on whispers that he sent last winter 

Every little lion's tooth dances like a ballerina's ribbon 

Twirls and lifts off 

She brushes against his cheek 

Like a soft kiss of a past lover

And for a moment his mind wonders 

To her soft lips 

She's not a beautiful rose 

Nor a plant with roots 

She dances to the pulses of Mother Nature's breaths

She has no home, or final resting place

a Dandelion 

Reflect

“You know we don’t see color… it’s white light being reflected and absorbed.”

“Yes I know… I passed physics…”

At times he loved how random her thoughts were, but others could't figure them out.

“Well my white light is reflected by you…”

Her eyes caught his for a brisk moment, before they tore away and looked back outside the window.

“Oh…”

He had no idea how to say that’s how he felt too. “So I am your rainbow,” was the only words he could blurt.

“Sometimes you’re the absolute dark.”

It's been a while old friend

It's been a while my friend since I last sat down and wrote to you

How have you been? 

Is this too generic a way to start a conversation with someone I bared my soul to?

I know it's been a while since I scratched at your door needing to just blurt everything out

It's been a while since my words flowed without being edited, amended or stripped down to its raw form.

But you see, old friend, I have been caught up in life... 

I have moved to a new place since we last spoke, and yes it's been going well.

It's hectic at times, lonely at others, and then in those pockets of reflections I feel an overwhelming sense of accomplishment...

You see my dear, I have put aside everything we used to talk about to pave way for what I worked hard for... I talk now of opportunity costs, rather than moments lost. 

I know that one day I will turn to you in need of your soothing touch... 

But for now just dropping by to say hello... I promise to stay in touch and never let you go.

Young Wild and Free circa 2013

... and this is why I call it Cee My Life

So here is the thing, I had dreams of being someone, getting places and having a bucket full of amazing accomplishments that I can be proud of. But here I am sitting in this familiar place with all the same surroundings and people, yet somehow I don’t recognize myself and have nothing in common with those people.

It’s been a rough few months, not because things have happened, quite the contrary, because things haven’t happened. And I could blame the universe, my luck, the region or even my self-doubt for so many of my misgivings, but I really won’t be doing myself any favors. I am here, this is the situation and I have to deal with it.

For too long my mind has been somewhere between wanting to give up and just live and let live- but then I remember at my core I am built to chase, to strive, to succeed. I used to believe that it would all make sense- all this waiting around will eventually culminate in something that has meaning. I don’t think I am looking for meaning anymore; I am looking for the right feeling. That gut feeling.

They say that things are meant to just fall into place: the job, the man, the location- but in reality it doesn’t fall into place at all, it seeps through the cracks, it hides in the dark and you have to dig for those things, you have to find the light. The beauty though, you can dig in the least expected of places and find them. The unknown can always surprise you, and that is when the light comes in. 

The Balcony

It’s become chronic, those long balcony talks, that ultimately lead to the same question… WHY?!

I graduated from a masters not so long ago, and the congratulations messages I received just seemed so void of sincerity- may be because at twenty-nine you are supposed to be fitting for a wedding gown instead of a graduation one.

We- and by "we" I mean ladies that are cut from my same fabric- often ask ourselves how come we haven’t been able to find that happy place with that happy person? All we have been doing lately is receiving Facebook wedding invites, attending baby showers and throwing bachelorette parties- and with every single invite we feel like the odd ones out; with every single invite we have less and less in common with more and more women.  We can’t share in the delight of any of those occasions beyond it being an excuse to get dolled up, buy cute little presents or post pictures on Instagram.

But WHY?  Are we intimidating? Are we not fun enough? Are we not submissive enough? Or are we too delicate? Is it our attitude? Or are we just too real? What is it that we can fix so we aren’t sitting on that balcony asking WHY?

I heard someone say recently "oh it's this whole feminist independent movement thing, women are so involved with being better at doing things alone that they forgot the togetherness"- I try to stay above the fray with those kind of discussions, but he may have a point. The "togetherness" is slowly fading, and the "me-ness" is taking over. But then I heard someone else say it's all about the "human connection" and it hit me like the cold bucket of ice that was keeping our wine cool, it is not the togetherness, or the feminine movement, or whatever other label that's being slapped around, it is the human connection.We are in search of that- not a check list, not a fatal attraction, simply a human connection. 

So may be the question is a rhetorical one. There is nothing to fix, there is nothing to change. Because ultimately it will happen- we will be the ones sending out invites, planning weddings and watching our baby bumps grow. But until then we will continue to sit on that balcony and wonder WHY?!

What is Freedom?

The problem with being a writer is that I am in mind too much. I sometimes forget to live in the moment; I let the moment live in me.

Here are a couple of thoughts zooming through my mind:

ONE: SYRIA

What do I say to the country that has been riddled, ridiculed and sucked dry by a useless civil war? Shame on you for not having a united voice of freedom- I wish there was a reason to defend a revolution based on an ideology that stems from accomplishment rather than demolishment. You have left me to be pitied by few and rejected by most; I am not a refugee (I can count my many blessings) but I am a nomad- not a single place I can rest my head and call home.

You have left your believers unsheltered in Zaina’s cold and you have stolen the fire, both in their hearts and homes. Was it all really worth it? My grandmother is left worried about her son; my uncle’s hands are bleeding from the ice cold water and an eighteen year old boy is getting ready to join the army reserve, not knowing if he’s going to make it through winter. Winter not only came, it came, it saw and it bloody conquered. When will you relent? When will you start building instead of destroying?!

You have stolen everything- most importantly your youth. You are left with nothing but a handful of murderers slaughtering the weak and thieves looting empty homes and factories. Your capital may be safe, but the rest of your cities are frail. I heard someone say that Aleppo has become a forgotten city- by you and by the world.

Who are your defenders? Your voices of reason? The good ones well they speak with a local tongue yet hold a different nationality- they speak of you with the same respect as they would give their fathers. But I am sorry to say, their words have fallen on deaf ears.

TWO: #JESUISCHARLIE

To the cartoonists and journalists who died because of a stroke of a pen and a creative thought, I gracefully tip my hat to you. You may have always wanted to make people laugh- but little did you know you made the world weep on 7/1/2015 – the irony of life. And to the policemen who died, I honor and salute you for dying just for doing your job.