Leap Of Faith

“Self-censorship is self-destructive. Those words you’ve been wanting to say? Say them all, say ya heart. No freedom without honesty. After some silences, speaking becomes breathing. Need it to live. Let ya soul be, let ya soul fly. Times when I feel I can’t find my light, and it finds me. Salaam to the Most: I’m not giving up.”

—-

believe that, i believe that, had to breathe that - was my facebook status a lil over a week ago. get to feeling sometimes heavy silences that sit on lungs, type of quiet made for compression. doubt about who i am what i do how i live why i love, thoughts obstructing passageways and ways to pray for days and days. lose my footing and my faith, type of thoughts that suffocate.

something in the truth of loss, the light that reveals it - and the struggle to see that could be life, struggle to be that could be life. something gained, might not know what it is, but now i gotta walk with it. i gotta run with it gotta fly with it, learn how.

times when i get tired, thinking arrogance about how the world owes me, waiting, wondering when’s and why’s. the reminders in the land, the sea, the sky: you come from this, fam. the earth humbles, and the universe hums, all agreement. how much i owe, and how much have i been giving of myself? to the world, my community, my family, my friends, to me and every moment of this living. get myself twisted thinking about all i want to get, everything that’s wrong for me.

i think back to those silences, when i find myself not saying what i need to say, not doing what i need to do: being scared to give because others might reject, hiding.

but who else can find me? who else will find me?

and i think about how i can’t leave that to chance or anyone else.

we’re worth more than that.

leaping,

mojy

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zuko6z9wYvs&feature=plcp

A series of light calligraphies made during my last trip to AD, UAE

Like henna he sinks in my skin. His pigments penetrate the cell walls of my palms in flower petals and curlicues. Like henna he sinks in my skin, and sticks in my hair, and colors the way I see myself. 

But henna fades, flicks off skin bit by skin bit as a reminder of the hard work your palms are doing. Of the old life you are shedding. Like henna he sinks in my skin but he has sunk into my heart. Colored it red. Penetrated its ventricular walls with flower petals and curlicues. Life flicks the skin off my palms, tells me no you can’t love, no you can’t be. 

He stays in my heart but not in my hands because he is a reminder of the hard work that my palms are doing. He is a reminder of the red that my heart is beating. He is my leap of faith.

Enoy it!

https://soundcloud.com/karmelfalastin/karmel-me-drama

these hands surrender and
heal hands of a holy woman.
Her hands heavy,
hands held
in prayer,
hands with scent
like jasmine.
Hands strong, hands light,
father breathing prayers outside.
Hands tired, hands crying,
holy woman dying,
our fingers intertwined -
Sisters.
My tears drop and spread on the skin of her palms,
I pray my hands our vessels of healing for her heart.
These hands rest in stillness, silent.
Sister’s hands are of a slave;
shining, holy.
Sister is a holy woman,
and brave.
She says to me:
“sickness is a beautiful teacher,”
puts her hands in the air
to praise our Healer.
These hands become luminous;
a mirror of Him,
For they have touched the hands of Halima,
gentle, generous,
in holding light,
in carrying disease,
a gift of jalal; majesty.

I thought and thought and thought. It turns out, I need to be pushed… You’re sister is leading towards the edge inshaAllah. <3