School

6am. I look out of the window and see students walking in the street waiting for their school buses to come. 3 years ago, I'd be up by this time and get ready for school. As the bus comes at 6.25am and doesn't wait at all for us. I'd probably miss it and wake my mother up to give me a ride to school and I would miss the morning assembly or walk in to the tutorial we had during the morning assembly late, where I'd grin at my classmates who are used to me being late more than anything. I'd spend the first three lessons yawning shamelessly, and some girls would yawn and look at me and blame me because my yawning is so contagious. By the time the first break comes I'd be alert. It was a war zone at the cafeteria where girls from grade 5 to grade 12 fought to buy something to eat before the break was over. No one stood in line. I'd rarely go myself to buy because I knew it was a waste of time where little girls would sneak in between my legs or so I often joked about it. I'd let some classmates buy me crisps or chocolate, choosing the ones that can't say no. Then lessons would proceed and either I'd be bored to death with the lesson or as hyper as shouting to get the teacher's attention to pick me to answer. Yes that was in grade 12 mind you. We enjoyed such childish behaviors. Then came the 2nd break before the 8th (last) lesson. We'd spend it eating or joking around or copying homeworks from one another. We'd sit in front of our class and I'd take any opportunity to goof around, maybe sit on my friend's lap and force my whole weight on her. It wasn't done out of affection or hugging but mere joking around. Then the last lesson would come and each would be thinking of going home, having lunch and a nap. Then after lessons are all over we'd pack our bags and head to the gate. While waiting for the bus to come we'd spend time chatting with little girls who always had amusing questions or things to say. Some of them marvelled at the curve of my chin and wished they had one. I was surprised to see such observant 11 year olds.

Yes, I was rather shameless about everything. I sat in the last row and commented about silly things while teachers looked away. But they loved me and I tried my best to keep up with the amount of pressure and expectations. And I succeeded and managed to enjoy my last year at school. As my sister was in a different class so I had full liberty to make a fool of myself and not have anyone nagging on me to stop this or that. But I said it more than once that I won't ever miss school. Ever. My stride then was as confident as could be. However I had deep rooted fears of not being able to make it. Still, I miss who I was then.

I know I'm painting such a bright picture of how things were. Maybe because I miss it. But it was all studying and tests and home works and research to be done. But stress and pressure were dealt with at home, at school all was forgotten. Yes, there were some girls who envied me, didn't wish me well, were jealous, tried to make me look bad in front of some teachers. There were some teachers who embarrassed me in front of the whole class but those girls who were my classmates I'd known for years. I would hold grudges against some teachers and often get teased about being that teacher's favourite. I'd unwillingly give some girls whom I didn't like very much my notebooks to copy from. I'd receive 'huda what's wrong?' countless times from teachers who'd interrupt their lesson to ask, not knowing I was finding their lesson boring to death or that I couldn't stand them.

But I didn't want any of it. I couldn't wait to get out. I was expecting so much from the world. School wasn't where I belonged. I was meant for so much more. And even though I was uncertain about what I wanted to major in in uni, I didn't worry about it because I knew that I'd be able to get into whatever I decided upon in the end. Thing is the world doesn't have much to offer, that much I now know. Enough said.

P.S it was foolish of me to think I can stuff all the memories in one post, but that was my failed attempt at it.
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Frowns at This Heart

The dawn is breaking. Birds have started chirping and I am denied sleep. I've been restless for days now. I get up dizzily and can't even walk a straight line, yet when I place my head on the pillow I feel widely awake. All thoughts swarm into my head and keep me alert. I toss and turn, on and off, but I can feel every move around me.

My heart's been shifted in its position a little bit, where it's been squeezed around the edges in its new place. It doesn't fit there. I don't know how to bring it back to its place. I want to be at rest. You're a pain, my heart. Go back to your place and torture me no longer, I beg of you. I'm scared. And I'm admitting it to you with all vulnerability.

I am tired and I need to be taken care of like a child. I need to be fed, comforted, looked after, held tight, engrossed in warmth that make my body resist no longer and sleep. I need a shield against my thoughts, where it'd block them from reaching me.
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Carry me

A vulnerable heartbeat
Almost fragile
But heard and felt, it is
My breathes fear unsettling those beats even more
Eyes soaked with tears
Weak knees, barely wanting to move
A throat that refuses to swallow
Shakiness even in those words
Restlessness
Every bone of my body needs reassuring
That it'll all be alright

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حدثني

حدثني عن الشمس التي تصاحبك في طريقك كل يوم
و عن الغيوم التي تجتاحها و تبعدها عنك
حدثني عن الممرات التي تسلكها
عن يوم فضي تقضيه في انتظار المطر
عن الفضاء الواسع و ما يلفت انتباهك فيه
عن وردة قطفتها و تأملت ملامحها
عن عطر لم تفارقك رائحته لسنين طويلة
عن العصافير التي توقظك صباحا
عن فاكهة اشتهيتها في غير أوانها
عن ريح تغلغلت أعماقك و اقتلعت أحزانك العميقة
عن حقيبتك المليئة بأوراق تناسيتها
عن أغصان أشجار مبتلة بالمطر

حدثني عن قلبك هل اعترته هموم ٌجديدة؟
عن عينيك هل أغرورقت بدموعٍ حارقةٍ ليلة أمس؟
عن يداك هل امتدتا إلى أحلامٍ لا تعرف المستحيل؟
عن هاتفك هل رن طوال اليوم أم كان خجولا هادئا؟
عن دفاترك هل نقشت بها اسمي و لو مرة؟
عن نوافذ غرفتك هل أطلت الوقوف عندها و تأملت المارة؟
عن جبينك هل عكرت صفوته المحن؟
عن شفاك هل خافت أن تنطق بكلماتٍ تجرح؟
عن أمنياتك هل أنت على بعد خطوات أم أميال منها؟
عن وطنك الجريح النازف هل تصلي له كل ليلة؟
عن ذكريات الماضي هل تأتيك غالباً أم أنك تصد مجيئها؟
عن أبواب مغلقة هل تطرق بابها وحيداً؟

حدثني عن قدميك التي اعتراها التعب من خطوات الطريق الوعر
عن خد إحمر من الخجل
عن قلم نفد حبره و حزنت عليه
عن كتاب أسر عاطفتك أجمعها و أثار حنينك
عن سحر كلمة وقفت مدهوشا أمامها
عن تلك البسمة التي ترسم نفسها على وجهك
قد تسألني كيف و أنت لا ترى البسمة؟
لا أدري كيف. و لكنني استمتع بوصفك المثقل بالتفاصيل

أسئلة

لماذا و كيف و غيرها من الأسئلة أصبحت كخناجر
متعبة و مؤلمة
أسئلة شائكة
و البحث عن أجوبة لها يزعزع و يهدم ما أحاول مراراً و تكراراً أن أبنيه على قاعدة رصينة
لا يوجد لدي أية مواد بناء تصمد  و تتصدى تيارات التعرية التي تجتاح الروح
ارحني و لا تثقلني بكل هذه الأسئلة
لا تستغرب
فإن أسخف الأسئلة  قد يفعل بي هذا
لا تورطني في معركة مع ذاتي
كل منا لديه جواب
و لساني يقول ما يريد
و يحبس الأجوبة في داخلي

نمشي و تركض بنا الأيام
هي عازمة على ألا نجد طريقنا
تخطف  اللافتات من السكك التي نسلكها
و تسلب الثبات من خطواتنا المبعثرة
فتبعثرها أكثر
و نضيع أكثر و اكثر
و على مفترق الطرق
أجد رزمة من أسئلة لا يمكنني تجاهلها
إلى أين و ماذا اختار و هل من رجوع؟