#whatkeeps megoing

[spinningjupiters]

There's a lesson in it all, but isn't it? In the years that age and the heart that grows bigger.

In the way we become kinder (or choose to be)

How it matters more if what we enjoy is what we've earned for ourselves. How it's more wholesome if its devoid of superficial pleasantries. How we no longer need people to accept our flaws. How we become enough for our own validation.

There's a lesson in aging isn't it?

It's never always pretty and appealing and 'lit'. It may sometimes be ugly and hard and impossible.

But if its mention-able it is achievable.

And once we achieve that sense of self assurance. It no longer matters.

The world becomes what it truly is 'wordly'.

What remains eternal is the people we've touched along the way and those whose hearts have moved us.

[spinningjupiters]

// similar pain //

I weigh evenings

In wistful smiles

Meant for lovers

Held with tragedy

And thrown to events

That life names coincidences

But are premeditated murders

I weigh twilights

In the hue of bloodshed

For what is a thought

If not understood

What is a love

If not reciprocated

What is a prayer

If not answered

All an array

Of dispersed yearnings

Spread across the horizon

All showing us humans

How differently woeful we are

And how our pain

Is so

Similar.

[spinningjupiters]

// happy sad //

Growing up no one told us. What it would be like. To take your sadness by its arms. Feel it breathing with nostalgia. Sense the scent of old baggage left in the basement. Caress the fears it has been holding tight. And sit with it. Facing it. Looking into its abysmal eyes. And then wonder. If the person looking back at you is a reflection of your heart or a mirage. The ashes that rise in the sky, maybe abandoned embers of a fire rising from unknown lands. Sometimes being your own confidant becomes as natural as breathing. You pluck the dying leaves and withered flowers. You poke the ground of your thoughts with comforting moments and warm memories. To seep down into your soul, the happiness you ought to deserve by now. Somehow no one emphasised how important it is to serve yourself the same care you so easily display to the world. So you create your own oasis. Amidst the ocean of tears. Both happy and sad. And let yourself just 'feel'. Regardless of the pressure of being 'something' or 'somewhere else'. And you for the first time show your skin to the world, scars and all. And realise there's no point in hiding any longer.

[spinningjupiters]

// daffodils //

Sometimes you feel like life escapes you. Or at least the state of living does. Just as the sand sifts through fingers reminiscing passing moments. Life slips away. Just as the tide is about to hit the shore. The mirage of an oasis appears till you walk ahead. And realise the sweltering tedious heat of having to breathe through the day. Take one after another. Like a clock ticking away. Unbeknownst of when it will stand still. Without purpose. With no cause and affect. And then when you're truly submerged. Physically, mentally, emotionally and your heart is lured into the abyss of nothingness. You look up. There's a whole sky lit up with the sweet taste of spring. As the flower dust blows with the wind. A wistful tug tries to revive the heart back to life. A bunch of daffodils promise some respite. Each innocent strand abloom. May be this state of nothingness will decay beneath the scent of yellow petals held together by a white halo. May be they will outshine the darkness, or at least light the path.

[spinningjupiters]

// my story of 2020 //

My story of 2020 is a story of extreme perseverance in the eye of adversity. I walked into the year apprehensive and scared. Bearing a new life inside my womb. There were news of world wars, forest fires and a novel virus. There was a personal wild fire lit inside my mind too. I was leading a life so different from what I was used to. There was an increasing mental load of things and apprehensions that just wouldn't quieten and a demon that fed on all my insecurities. As the world grew quieter with one lock down and the next, my thoughts too went into radio silence. May be I thought, if I don't reason with or counter my fears they would sleep on their own into oblivion and become non existent. But they didn't. That time came when I had a new life in my arms and I only felt like a grave yard. The garden that had blossomed the most beautiful flower now laid tarnished and violated. I was sleep deprived. With no joy in what lay outside the window of my room. The nights felt to go on into days without any transition. And more or less it felt like the same day repeated over and over again. I had little will to go on but I let the body heal in its own time. I just stayed afloat. Doing all that is necessary to not drown. And while I tried time did heal my scars to an extent that my mental health started catching up. I grew fonder of the beauty that blossomed in my arms and basked in my maternal sunshine. She awakened within me a warrior that once again wanted to taste the essence of life. As the sips of sorrow evaporated from my tongue and the lasting taste of survival took its place I kept my mind submerged in deep solitude. I faced the fears that had grown like poisonous weed. I plucked them one by one. Once again my garden was blooming with beauty and resilience. I found that though I would wish for the season to always keep my roots warm and the winds to never be harsh. I may pray the coldness to fade or the burning sun to give my home a shade. There's little in my control when it comes to circumstances. It is what I make of the rain; that runs as blood in the veins of the living. Those who choose to believe in the power of moments that make up days. And sentences that restore meanings to conversations. And the written word that can immortalise the struggles of a long lost soul. There's still a chance to recover. At the fading end of the tumultuous year I learnt that I have become more giving and less expectant. I have grown within me the ability to be on my own and still be kind. Like the setting sun the calmness rests over me like an invisible cloak. A blessing from the ones who left us a long time back. For those that we prepare to meet one day. For me this year has made the reality of our fragile existence all the more human.

[spinningjupiters]

// waves //

There's a cold wisp in an otherwise hot humid Karacho air. The sunlight is fading into the deep evening. Yet time seems to slow down a bit. As I sit with my mother and watch the waves grow bigger each time they rise. She's conversing with someone and I'm lost in my own mind. I place my hair band in the lap and take a few steps. The waves rushes over us. And I see my mother looking over her lap seeing if the band is gone. But its there. Safe. In her hands. Each belonging just as this till now. Even our hearts. Held by our parents when the waves of time rise. And the night descends and we part. In due time. Till we meet again.

[spinningjupiters]

// winter trip //

You wake up and its the weekend. Because the school is off. There's a lot of prep going on but you don't have to do anything. You're all dressed. You're wearing your favourite jacket with fur on it. There's a picnic basket with all the essential supplies. Your mom and dad are coordinating where to go. And then you set off in an early morning in Abbotabad. Listening to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan and Ali Haider. You reach Nathia Gali. There's snow everywhere. You watch as the rest of the families reach too. You mingle with your friends. There's food being passed over. And the grown ups have cups of hot coffee. The clouds rise with their laughter as they sip some more. And you play and run and bask in the pure air and unadulterated sense of time. You head home after a while. You fall asleep. You wake up in your bed after what seems the late evening. You feel full. The most fullest you've felt before you grew up. And days didn't seem the same anymore.

[spinningjupiters]

My book, A Familiar Haze to is available online. :) You can also message me for a signed copy. ❤ https://www.emel.com.pk/product/familiar-haze-amna-ameer/