Blog, Self

Breaking Generational Curses

Growing up I always felt alienated from the Bangladeshi community. Not understanding why I felt this way, not comprehending why I couldn’t connect with family members, why I didn’t have mutual interests with my cousins. Not knowing why I couldn’t relate to the norms and traditions of my culture that never made sense to me.

I was that introverted, socially awkward girl who would sit quietly in a corner of the room, surrounded by people but not speak, just observing. Listening to older generations talking to each other, gossiping about each other. Throwing ‘harmless’ jokes at each other, commenting on other people “when are they getting married?” “She’s of age now.” When are you going to have children?” And if you go against the norm you’re instantly ostracised, exiled. Wincing to everything they’d say, never aligning with the ways they were, their beliefs, and values. It was never about belonging, it was the realisation that my life’s meaning, my purpose was different. It was to break the restrictive norms and traditions for future generations. It was to break the norms that society held of girls, of women. It was to heal the generations to come, it was to break the generational traumas and values that had no significant values. My purpose wasn’t going through the traditional route.

Transitioning into an adult, seeing the unspoken traumas, generational unhealed sadness that I realised the norms, ideations that existed never had an essential purpose. It simply confined the people, immobilised us to mind-ego and never seeing the light, the beauty of life. It isn’t just about the traditional route of going to university and graduating, nor about getting married by 25 and having children. It’s the gaps that reside in those spaces of conforming to these concepts. It’s the regret of not doing more in life, not knowing what your purpose is and why you’re here. It’s the pain, suffering they have of blindly following man-made societal norms and projecting the traumas that were created onto the future generations, onto the children. The trauma and suffering repeating like a cycle.

It never was about connecting with my community because that meant I affiliated with the societal norms that were created. It is about breaking the generational curses that controlled, imprisoned them because they never saw an extraordinary life. They simply saw the life of survival. The need to survive. It is my purpose to crack open, and break the generational curses, so the future generations don’t have to worry about breaking norms that limited them.

Standard
Blog, poetry

Intimacy

Streaming, seeping, ever flowing energy between two lovers.

My soul wanting to devour his mystical being.

His loving aura, his love for me addictive, devoted to only him.

His body close to mine, encasing me, fire burning inside for him.

Wanting him to take all of me, wanting to give him all of me.

Because that is what he has made me, a crazy lover.

His intimacy is my constant yearning.

My soul light and free.

His love florets my heart.

Thanking the Universe for giving him to me.

Thanking the Universe for giving me unconditional love in him.

Our souls burning together, creating a passionate, blazing inferno.

My love for him pure, limitless, and transcendental.

 

 

 

Standard
poetry

What Is Her Worth?

What does her worth mean, when all she experienced was pain. What is worthy when she only encountered hardships. Life leaving her jaded. Her worth means power. Finding her worthiness makes her unstoppable. Her worth will tremble the grounds of onlookers, her watchful enemies. Waiting for her to yield. Finding her worth in words that are used to ruin her, to crumble her will.

Yet, she doesn’t succumb. She doesn’t tremble against the screaming words of men, of a system created to tear her down.

She rises. She rises. Becoming in tune with her power, with her Godsend strength. She rises, washing away at the ashes rooted to bring her down.

Yet, she doesn’t falter, she emerges from the dark tinted glasses, that paralysed her. Breaking the shackles, becoming infinite in her femininity. In harmony with her womanism, her power given from our Mother Nature. They don’t want you to know it. Knowing your power, your gift scares them. But you will see your worth, in your flourishing and decadent being. Her worth is calling out to her, wanting her to take it into the palms of her hands, placing it in her heart and boundlessly bloom. Crushing those that wilted her soul, her worth calling for her to bring it to light, to recognise her power. For her to grab it, cherish it, and wear it.

What is her worth? Her worth gives her power, making her limitless. Bringing her to light, knowing her given power and dwindling the darkness trying to silence her. Her womanly aura and energy is her eternal, everlasting power.

Standard
Creative Writing, Romance

The Date

Waking up to the birds chirping harmoniously amongst each other, the blinding sun seeping through the windows. A smile was worn on my face and my body singing lightly, humming with anticipation of the day ahead. My phone pinging with a “good morning. I will be picking you up at 10” text from Ezra. Browsing through my closet, at a loss of what to wear that is light, comfortable, and sexy. Deciding to pair a cream coloured bandeau top with a long red skirt, that had a slit stopping on top of my thigh along with, strappy brown sandals that are low heeled. My make-up lightweight and skin-like, designing braided strands to sit on top of my head and creating soft wavy curls. Accompanied by a plain silver bracelet, hooped earrings, diamond, chain styled armband, with simple, intricate stoned rings on my fingers and finishing it off with traditional anklets on both ankles. Feeling proud of the look I have put together.

With five minutes to spare, I quickly store away my products and go downstairs to drink water in an attempt to calm my nerves. The bell ringing in time of 10, walking down the corridor simultaneously, maintaining my controlled breathing, and open the door. He looked devilishly handsome even with, the simplicity of his clothing. His eyes bright, his golden pigmented skin glistening, glowing from the blazing, hot sun. Moving into his body for an embrace, circling my arms around his neck and resting my face on his shoulder, inhaling his clean scent. Ezra lifting me off the ground, tightening his hold on my body. Kissing my neck, murmuring “I missed you” into my skin. “I missed you too” I uttered, his body sensational against mine. Putting me down, he reached for my mouth, kissing me languidly, deepening the kiss. Freeing a moan from my lips as he snakes his tongue inside my mouth whilst, his hand squeezes my ass smiling against my mouth. Releasing my lips, he placed his forehead against mine “hi” he said.

“Hi” I replied.

“You look beautiful, Luna” he whispered, his raspy voice heating my body, warmness entering my heart.

“Thank you, you don’t look bad yourself” I returned, feeling my face burn.

“Ready?” he questioned.

“Yes, just need to grab my bag and lock the door” I answered. Once, I have grabbed my bag from the couch and locked the front door. We walk with our hands clasped together. Feeling blissful.

“No car?” I wondered.

“No, we will be using the subway and if need be, we will be using the taxi.”

“Okay,” I replied. With the sun looking down at us, the trees gently swaying in sync with the summer breeze. With the children loitering around the streets playing, people strolling and talking to each other, and smells of food drifting through the air. I just know, it was going to be the most perfect day and one of the memorable days that I will hold onto. Internally thanking God for this life, for this moment.

We took the subway to our first stop being the Time Square, the buildings and billboards surrounding me, making me feel alive, freeing me. Walking through the streets, never letting go of each other’s hands. Ezra narrating, telling me the history of the buildings along with, the infamous, touristy landmarks. Going towards Rockefeller Center. “You would love this” he stated.

“I would?”

“Mhmm” we walk towards the sky-scraping building, the elevator taking us to the highest floor. Stepping into the floor, my breath hitches, my mouth opening wide as I stare at the view encircling me. Speechless and completely in awe.

“Wow,” I whispered. Turning to Ezra, to find him staring at me with a smile.

“Beautiful” he uttered, knowing we are not speaking about the same thing, hugging my body to his in silent appreciation.

We stayed there for a while, staring outside at the view of New York City, staring at people going on with their lives and living their lives. Feeling like I am in the air like I am flying as if I am infinite. The first part of the day continuing to visiting touristy places consisting of me gushing and getting excited over anything and everything, and Ezra laughing at me.

We stop at a coffee place, the aromatic blends of roasted coffee salivating my senses. The shop was quaint, cute. The staff friendly and welcoming, people coming in and out. With our coffees at hand, we take a stroll to Central Park. The energies in the park were contagious and delightful. People milling in the park with their dogs, children, or with their friends. Some jogging, others sitting on the benches or the grass eating or mingling. Walking up the hill which overlooks the city, sitting in silence on the bench for a few moments, “I always come here. Every morning when I am on my run. I would come and sit on this bench, stay here for a while, and look out as the sun rises. Seeing the rising sun making me feel powerful, bringing me calmness, tranquillity. One of my favourite places in this city” he said. Staring at him in wonder, then staring at the pictorial display of buildings in front of me. The searing sun blazing, beaming radiantly amongst the clouds, the sky. Adorning the Earth with its presence, providing and gifting us moments that will be ingrained in our memories. Shining its light upon us.

“I get you” I muttered, my grip on his fingers tightening. Loving and holding onto each and every moment and coming alive.    

Following his lead, taking in the streets we pass, the vendors and pull-up trucks. Each area attaining distinct characteristics, telling different stories. The rowdiness of the crowds intensifying as people fight for certain items and negotiating prices for a discount. The silence between us comforting and peaceful. Looking up at Ezra to see him staring at me with a smile of his own. The pathway getting higher, the scenery changing from foods to clothes, to souvenirs and now arts. The stream of different arts, paintings from classical to contemporary abstract pieces. We take a taxi to Brooklyn Bridge, Ezra’s words “to have a mean ass pizza, that’s going to fuck you up.” I get it, I get why people become so awestruck, going through the bridge, the windows down and the wind blowing my hair away from my face. Overlooking the masses of buildings, the soaring creations merging and putting on a show. It was paradise. The embryonic, ancient pillars formed with elegant, soft arch providing an incredible experience with its beauty. The idea of living my imaginations, my dreams, the way it is playing outside my head making me emotional. My eyes watering, the happiness that is blooming inside me becoming indescribable. Looking over at Ezra, I reach for his hand and caress the skin mouthing “thank you. Lightly whispering “this is perfect” appreciation heightening for the man beside me.

The pizzeria was charming and cute, with the staff talking a mix of English and Italian. The fragranced aroma of cheese, tomato, and charred smokiness of dough permeating the air. The open concept kitchen, chatting, patting, and sounds of making pizza, the noisiness of people – the energy infectious and wholesome. The waiter seats us on a corner booth, direct view of the skyline making this happening more memorable and magical. Ezra decides on the pizza and their drink selection. Telling me to “trust him on this”, we aimlessly talk and look over at the Brooklyn Bridge, the sunset surface from the clouds, titivating the city’s skyline once the waiter took our order. “How many activities are left after this,” I ask.

“Two, if we have time maybe three. You wouldn’t know because it’s a surprise” he stated with an expressive glint.

“Hmmm. I wonder what they are” I feigned, curiously.

“Keep on thinking” he knowingly returned. A bottle of a bubbly drink and two glasses were placed on the table.

“Me too. What is your favourite known fact” I questioned?

“The Universe is 13 billion years old. That there are multiverses that exist other than this Universe. The notion of nothing is real. In actuality, there is no truth, there is no right and wrong. Necessarily, beliefs don’t exist, it is simply ideations we have created to make our lives purposeful, meaningful – it is man-made. There is no society, but a system that conditions us into a way of living, that controls us” he ended abruptly, looking nervous and shaking his head in an attempt to shake away the jitters.

“You want to continue” I whispered, smiling. “You don’t need to stop when you feel yourself getting in too deep. It was nice to see you become passionate, in the way you were getting lost inside your mind with your thoughts. Allowing them to run. I think it is hot too” I said.

“I usually don’t speak aloud about these notions. A lot don’t seem to understand, nor do they want to understand. Don’t wanna scare you off” he confessed,

“Not scared just, turned on” I laughed.

“Yeah” he countered with heated eyes. His eyes lowering to my mouth. Instinctively licking my mouth. Damn it.

“Mhmm” I affirmed. “Do you believe we were meant to stumble upon each other, I know you said that you felt you were supposed to meet me, that me coming into your life was fulfilling in some way. But, do you think we were put together through destiny or manifesting each other? I think some part of me did. You were exactly what I was looking for”.  

“I do. The first time I met you in that coffee shop, I dreamt of you in the night of. I was paralysed in my sleep and you were the one who got me out. You calmed me, bringing me back to life. When I talk about you, nobody understands the way I feel about you. With only having moments together, talking to each other once, nobody knew how you could feel the surge of energy, a deep connection with someone you just met. I didn’t know how and why either. But that never stopped thoughts running inside my mind, it didn’t stop the feelings of longing, hope emerging from within. I didn’t stop dreaming about you or imagining you during daylight. It never stopped the intense, growing energy within my soul that stilled until the moment I had met you again” he voiced. My heart heavy from his words, not from sorrow or pain. Rather, the words he uttered was what I experienced too, living in the same state, it was my life. I felt it too. Love is not conjured up to feelings, thoughts, or actions. It is energy so profound, so unheard of it will shake you, it will slam into your face and turn your world upside down. What you thought suddenly doesn’t exist, doesn’t mean anything. Love is an essence that binds you before you even meet, bonding and fusing two lovers together. Only essence that responds to purity and chasteness of connection shared by two beings, through vulnerability and appreciation. Ezra is my destiny. I knew that the moment we separated ways in London.

“I know Ezra,” I say with a shaky voice at the revelation I made in my head. The pizza arriving before I could say anything else. It didn’t stop us from looking into each other’s eyes and saying all the things that affirmed the words that were spoken and felt.

“I am thankful for you, Ezra. Thank you for coming into my life” I expressed.

“Thank you, Luna, for coming into my life” he returned.

Digging into a slice of doughy cheesy, flavourful goodness, each bite becoming tastier and mouthwatering. Confirming that Ezra knew exactly what he was doing, making me fall in love with New York through his lenses. Immersing ourselves with our talks and food, we stayed until the dusk. The sunset becoming starry, the lights bringing the city alive and the streets becoming busier. The brisk air outside crisp, washing over my skin in a warm and tender embrace. Brooklyn bustling, alive; the Bridge lit up, with the lights of the towering view of buildings. Displaying the magnificent vision of art.

“Ready for what is next?” he said with a smirk.

“Do I get to know?” I inquired.

“Nope. Not until we are there” he replied.

“Then what was the point of saying if I am ready” I jokingly, remarked.

“Well you are in for a treat” he responded. Waving his hand out to stop a taxi.

The streets at night was a different experience. The drive to Manhattan going smoothly, driving through the Bridge was euphoric, elation travelling through my veins. The driver going to the theatre district, I study the people in costumes milling in the corners of streets close by to the theatres. Lines of people waiting outside the theatres, the buzz in the air energising, invigorating. “Ezra,” I say, prolonging his name towards the end “what are we doing here” I questioned.

“You will find out soon. Sir, you can leave us here” Ezra murmured to the driver, paying him with cash and opens the door to his side muttering “wait”. He rushes to my side of the car, opening the door for me and offered me his hand. Smilingly I take his hand whilst giggling, couldn’t help it.

“Thank you. You’re cute” I gushed as Ezra intertwined our fingers, walking to the pavement.

“I have my moments” he returned with a radiant smile. He guided us through the crowd, shielding me with his body from the wild throngs of people. “It is Saturday evening, I anticipated this. But I guess something is happening tonight so, there are more people than usual” he voiced.

“I know, I am not worried” I responded.

“That’s good” he returned.

We stop at a building situated in the centre of the street. The huge pillars holding up the majestic, Victorian-like building which is swarmed with people. People outside waiting in line and those inside getting ready for the show. A poster of Hamilton stuck on the bricked wall “Ezra” I muttered, pointing at the wall and quirking an eyebrow. I didn’t need him to say anything with his smile becoming bigger, widening and his eyes shining brightly. “No way” I quietly shriek “what” I exclaim. “How did you know?”

“You mentioned how much you loved Hamilton soundtrack when we were discussing current music favourites. Saying how you wished you could see it live. So, I had to make it happen” he stated. Making a beeline through the line reaching inside his jacket and handing the usher the tickets. When approved he moved to the side, Ezra and I step into the grand, magnificent building. Absolutely and awfully at awe as my eyes take in every display of art and the interior design. I am in love. I am in heaven, this must be what heaven feels like. Turning to Ezra, I hug his body tightly to mine. Running my fingers through his strands. Sinking my face into his neck, while he pulls me into him “thank you so much, Ezra. I won’t forget these moments ever” I vehemently uttered. Complete adoration and admiration for the man. Thanking the Universe, God, the heavens and high water for bringing him into my life.

“No problem. Anything for you Luna. I want you to have the best experience of this city” he expressed.

“You won. You won with me” I replied, pushing my body from his, caressing his skin.

“Come, let us go to our seats,” he said. Placing his hand behind my back and guiding me in the direction of our seats.  The theatre was constructed with timbers, the thick wood creating circular motions in the roof. Anticipation and apprehensiveness sinking into my skin with giddiness rushing through in love with everything surrounding me. My hands shaking and clamming up, breath hitching as the lights dim low and the curtains ensue, gradually revealing the stage. The chatter amongst people transforming into cheers, and clapping eventually, dying down. The floors vibrating as the sounds come alive, my hands slapping over Ezra’s instantly, shrieking with excitement. The play moving beautifully, stirring emotions as the plays progress the music making me feel high, unabashedly singing and rapping the lyrics. Trying to maintain quietness as I do, receiving weird looks and side-eyes from those around me. Filling my heart with inspiration, admiration for the play and love for the meaning of the play, for what it brings, what it stands for along with, the stories from different people and communities. Enthusiastically standing up from my seat, clapping my hands, whopping, screaming and cheering once it ended. Looking at Ezra, to see him with the same elation, the room vibrating with love and joy. The lights coming back on as curtain begins to close. People getting ready to leave, whilst I stay seated on my seat and take it all in. The overwhelming emotions wanting to be purged, to be released. Tears arise from the corner of my eyes, allowing them to fall. The whole day feeling like a floating dream, surreal with no words coming to describe the emotions rushing through me. Ezra quiet as he hands me a tissue, running his hand through my back muttering “it is okay, I think I did a bit too much today” he chuckled nervously.

“No, no you didn’t. It was perfect. Everything was perfect” I voiced, clasping our fingers and stroking his skin. Wiping away the remaining tears, I stand up to get ready to leave. Ezra following suit, going down the expansive, carpeted stairs, looking around me and taking it in for the last time. The chilly air rushing through the open doors as Ezra pulled the door for me to go first. Rain falls slowly, the air still warm with a hint of a breeze. Without thinking I turn to Ezra, and I kiss him. Fusing our lips together, gripping the material of his shirt, melding our lips, Ezra returning the kiss just as passionately. Wrapping my arms around his neck, gripping strands of his hair as he kisses my top lip then my bottom, sucking it and dragging it out, releasing a moan. He picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. My hands reaching, tenderly touching any skin that I can find as our tongues dance in a twist. The rain intensifying, welting down on us. Savouring this rainy dream-like state, feeling like the scene from The Notebook as I communicate my words of how I feel, the way he makes me feel. My hair sticking to my skin, not wanting this moment any other way. Breaking the kiss, I put my forehead against his chin. Regaining my breathing, my heart hammering against my chest, my body pulsing with pleasure, fire and affection for this man. Closing my eyes, as he kisses my forehead. My skin wet from the rain, but, uncaringly staying attached to his body as he sways his body, keeping me close to him. Ignoring the ways we’re seen in the street.

“Be my girlfriend” he bluntly said. Raising a laugh from me, quietening down watching his eyes displaying his emotions.

“Say it again” I whisper, running my hands through his strands, he puts me down, cupping both sides of my face.

“Be with me Luna, be my girlfriend” he gently murmured.

“Okay. Boyfriend” I breathed, not needing to think with my stomach floating with butterflies. Both smiling with our foreheads pressed against each other, embracing this moment and of each other’s presence. “Thank you, Ezra, this was everything that I dreamt and wished for. This was perfect, so perfect it will be deeply embedded within my brain. Seems like a dream” I voiced.

“Anything for you baby” he returned. “Still have time for another activity,” he asked.

“You can take all the time in the world from me, I feel like I am living pass time. I just want to be with you” I expressed. Tired of thinking of what to say, what not to say, wanting to talk freely and not be afraid. We hailed a cab to the next destination, my heart filled with fulfilment, peace and deep-seated, growing emotions.

The ride to the next destination was short. Aloofness sinking in, having no idea why we are here, at 10 pm with everything closed except, for the food places. People filling the street, the vibrancy intensifying as the night lived on. The taxi stopped and Ezra opened the door for me, stepping out with a “thank you”.

“You don’t have to do that every time, you know,” I said.

“I like doing it. When you’re with me, I will always want to open the doors for you, to treat you in a certain way. It makes me happy” he responded gently.

“Okay. Only for you. I’m just used to doing things on my own, so it makes me feel weird”.

“Well, you have me now” he replied.

Being so enamoured by his energy, I wasn’t aware of where we were, that I was taking steps in front of me. Studying the scene in front of me, the dim lights cascaded around the pillars, the classic, vintage-like architecture was stunning. Halting, my eyes widening, my mouth opening in shock, realising where he was taking me.

“Ezra” I whispered.

“Welcome to The Met,” he said softly.

“How. We can’t, it is closed” I responded.

“I have a close acquaintance with the manager of The Met, he owed me some favours, so I used one of them for taking you here. He relented, giving me the keys for them yesterday evening”.

“Ezra, this is amazing”.

“I anticipated we might be late, so, I couldn’t take chances”.

“Ezra, who are you” I uttered, so dazed with everything. Responding with his deep chuckle, which is becoming one of my favourite sounds. “Ezra you didn’t have to do all of this,” I said, meaning every word. He went above and beyond, leaving me stunned with how to respond, and amazed that a man like him existed.

“I wanted this to be special, memorable. To me, it is catching up with all the missing moments we didn’t get to share”.

Ezra opens the entrance door once we have reached the top of the steps. Once locked, we quietly walked inside, the hall eerie with its darkness.

“I am going to take you somewhere. Just trust me okay” he whispered.

“Okay,” I replied. Using the torch on his phone to guide us the way, we take the elevator to the top floor. We continue walking, passing a café to a rooftop view of the city’s skyline. Putting my hands on my mouth as I gasp, my eyes begin watering. In disbelief of what is in front of me. It was stunning, dreamy, and romantic. “Oh my god” I breathed, my breath becoming uneven.

“Ezra, this is so wonderful. How did you do this” I asked?

“I had my sister in law come up. She is a wedding planner, she knew about you. I described the way I wanted this to be and she knew how I wanted it. She came in the evening, right before The Met was closing”.

“Ezra,” I said, my voice weakening, tears relentlessly falling. The scene in front of me was gorgeous. Rose petals scattered around the floor, surrounded by small candlelit lamps, encircling a blanket that accompanied an enclosed basket.

“I was hoping to stargaze here, I thought this was perfect inside the city with the moon out” he whispered. Taking my hand, kneeling in the makeshift blanket. Ezra bringing the basket to us, revealing two glasses, a bottle of sparkling champagne along with, fruits and doughnuts.

“Interesting combination of food,” I commented.

“I knew we would be stuffed, only things I can think of that would be light. Doughnuts being the dessert for the day” he replied. Unscrewing the bottle, pouring us both a glass whilst, I bring the food to us and open the fruits. Leaving the doughnuts inside the basket for later. I look out at the breathtaking vision in front of me, the full moon glowing luminously against the dark, night sky. The stars glistening, twinkling, shining their celestial lights upon us with the illuminating lights from the buildings, bringing the city alive. The picturesque visuals making me feel light, infinite.

“Thank you so much,” I said.

“Stop saying thank you. I wanted to do this for you, for us. You being here, your reactions is all I needed” he responded, smiling, his skin glowing from the moonlight. My safe haven. Pulling me to his lap, between his legs. I push myself closer to his body, the warmth and safety of his arms were blissful. Looking out at the spectacular sight, I call my home, the Universe providing me with peace, stillness as they bless us with miracles. Feeling like Ezra and I only exist on Earth, cherishing this moment as we both sit in silence and gaze out at the scenery. Time is still, life is in a pause as we live in the moment.

“I like you a lot, Luna. You came into my life and changed everything. I haven’t been the same since I have met you” he voiced, against my ear. His breath fanning over my skin, closing my eyes as it electrified me.

“Me too,” we both discard the drinks and turn to lie down. Both inseparable, as I lay my head on his chest, looking up at the starry sky. Stargazing, talking about everything and nothing, stars enveloping us, the moon blessing us with her presence. Thankful. The end of a perfect day.

(A scene from the current story. Simply wanted to share for becoming attached to the characters. Living vicariously through the characters and how precious this story has become for me. If you have read it till the end, thank you so much. Truly appreciate it)

Standard
Love, poetry

Musings: Fate

Fate is like the ocean that comes swooping into the shore. The ricocheting essence

overwhelming you yet, soothing you.

Fate is the unknown, leading you to your one. To your purpose.

Fate bringing two souls together, connecting them, interlocking them through the lifetime and the here-after.

Shocking you, moving you. Fixing your missing enigmas and putting you together.

Gifting you your light, your meaning, your purpose.

Suddenly life makes sense.

Creating series of circumstances like a domino, trembling your core when you are at the crest.

Two aching souls bind, unite through the purity of their love.

Fate is the unknown.

Fate is the essence enriching, radiating your light.

Two souls intertwining, seeking, finding, and loving each other.

The unknown is where you find love.

He is my one.

He is my unknown.

He is my fate.

Now I know.

https://www.instagram.com/konijjajaannah_/

Standard
Creative Writing, poetry

Unspoken Words

Watchfully gazing from a distance, as his face lights up. The corner of his eyes crinkling, delving into the skin as his eyes beam brightly. With his mouth tilting upwards into a radiant smile like the luminescent moonlight illumining, bringing my soul alive. His darkened complexion enhanced his strong features, his eyes twinkling like two celestial orbs. His dimples deepening as his smile enriches, beautifying his already handsome face. Whispering his name as I look up, watching in all its magical glory.

Standard
Creative Writing, Love

Fate

Ezra

My throat filled with fluid, reaching down my body. Keeping me down, leaving me fighting to get to the shore. In futile. Left paralysed, as my body is submerged under water. My body smothered with water, immersing deeply into the well of hollowness with no way to flee. “No. Help” I hear myself scream. The bleak darkness drowning, flooding me into a sinking void. “Please. Stop it” I hoarsely whisper, spiralling in and out of consciousness, trying to escape. My closed eyes swarming with bright light, leaving me momentarily hazed. My body tightening, seizing as I have become delirious. Feeling uncontrollable as my chest constricts with my throat compressed into knots unable to bring in oxygen. “Stop. Stop” I inwardly whisper, needing to leave this hellish trance. Beams of intense luminosity emerging in my vision. Glowing, brown eyes alighting, their breath exhaling. Yielding my body to arch, the heaviness of my chest relinquishing in sync with their breathing. Immersing me into calmness, oxygen coming back to me as my throat clears. The illuminating, brown eyes rising, providing tranquillity. Serenity washes over me as the feminine voice lulls “breathe” in a hushed murmur. “Breathe” the soft voice repeats again. My eye flashing open, unblinkingly staring at the naked walls, sweat gathering around my forehead and body. With a fast-beating heart and heavy breathing, I get out of bed and into the bathroom. Splashing water on my face, washing away the last remnants of the nightmare.

Anxiousness simmering inside my body, adrenaline bursting through my veins as I walk to my makeshift painting area. The blank canvas mimicking the end of the dream, creating the image that surfaced in my dream. Itching with dire need to be released and created. The dark sky, transforming into early morning with birds chirping. Not with the times and hours, as I sunk myself into running away from the hallucinating illusion. Turning the heaviness that is left in my body into a state of peace. Finishing the touches of the latest painting I have curated. With the rest of my paintings already in the gallery I am prepared for the exhibition. As I brush the last stroke, I step back exhaling at the wonder that my eyes lay on. As I let it sit for two hours, I begin to shower and get ready to convince the head curator to put this forward with the rest of the art.

Taking an uber to the gallery, my mind lingers on the stranger women I had the seconds with, lightly hoping I will bump into her again. Somehow not being able to forget. Walking with intention as I have reached the entrance, I see Miguel dressed in colourful clothing, an open chested red shirt, black artisan blazer and trousers with unique designs. Miguel was a European Spanish man whom I have met in New York art exhibition in my art gallery. Within seconds we hit it off, talking about the arts culture, our favourite artists and collections. Since then we have stayed in contact with each other and maintained a friendship relation.

He greets me with enthusiastic arm movements as soon as he sees me, eyeing the black bag in my hand. “I need this piece to be included in the exhibition” I demand bluntly. Miguel stares at me, piercing me with emotionless eyes that wants to tell me off for a cold welcome. But he needs to know my seriousness when I don’t have time to play nice. He signals for me to follow him, heading to his office upstairs. Once we have reached, he closed the door behind me, I lay the bag on the empty table, unravelling the painting for Miguel’s eyes. He stands beside me, taking in a sharp breath, without saying another word he turns towards me “is this who I think it is” he questions. Knowing what his underlying words mean “yes” I utter, “this needs to be in the exhibition, it completes the collection perfectly” I continue. With Miguel in deep thought, I shake away the jitters that comes with being patient, suddenly sighing in admission he says “okay, we can make adjustments. She must be beautiful, for you to be bothered like this” he jokes, but his eyes reflecting respect. Miguel was a person who embraced vulnerability, he never let the ego drive him into making his decisions, he enjoyed being in companies that think alike and who are not crippled by their ego, their identity and not being afraid of humanly feelings and desires. So, with him knowing who this was and me wanting to show this painting in public, he valued me and even more so, this friendship because of it.

Taking the painting in his hand, we go downstairs to the floor of the exhibition, placing it in the focal point of the collection, the centre wall. “Do you oppose” he prompts with one raised eyebrow.

“No, absolutely not” I affirm, feeling accomplished knowing the last art had finalised the collection.

Going back to my hotel suite, I make a start to get ready with spending the whole of afternoon in the gallery, preparing and organising the event, time flew by me. With Miguel picking me up for the evening, I pour myself a drink to remove the apprehensiveness that are rising.

Walking into the gallery, bustling with people and photographers. Grabbing champagne in the entryway, studying those who are looking at the art. The best part about being an artist and establishing your painting in art galleries is the anonymity from publicity. With painters, artists, art investors recognising you due to the close-knit community we have formed for ourselves. Diving right in as I start to talk leisurely with interested customers, negotiating prices with their likened art, positive feelings of success surging as one art had been sold. Long black hair in my peripheral vision convincing myself that it is not real and only imaginations that exist from my dream. Informing the staff that this painting has been sold, they begin to discuss buying the art with the costumers. The long-haired stranger stopping at the latest painting, moving closer and deeply analysing it. With my focus strained, I begin to watch her, her form, her skin and the stunning dress pulling me to her place. Instinctively, my feet walk towards her, eyeing the way she moves closer to the painting. Stopping just behind her inhaling a waft of her flowery, vanilla scent “No, it can’t be” I internally whisper to myself. Out of all places. She is here, knowing she felt my presence I move backwards only for her to turn around and bump into me.

Helping to balance her, I place my hand on her lower back. Silky smooth skin burning my fingers alive. Her scent engulfing me, her wide eyes blinking back at me in recognition and in shock. “We need to stop meeting like this” I mutter light-heartedly with a grin, simmering the feelings wanting to surface. “My name is Ezra” I prompt, waiting for her to speak.

She pushes back to maintain distance, “My name is Luna” she begins “you need to stop appearing where I can’t see you” she says. She studies me curiously. Looking at the person who inspired my painting, her alluring, mesmerising eyes, opening her mouth in futile as her words become unspoken.

“This painting was inspired by you” I mumble, “from the last time I saw you to now, I was not able to forget you. You came up in my dreams and you are what I painted. I want you.” I utter in hushed tone.

(Another part. Couldn’t help myself. Writing this got me excited of the prospects. I’m proud of the characters that are coming alive. Writings from a current story. Thank you for reading 😀 ).

Standard
Creative Writing, poetry

Connections

Connections happen slowly, sinking within every inch of your soul.

Connections happen in an instant, sparks shooting through your veins.

Staying in your mind, leaving you guessing how and why you’ve met them.

Wanting more of their presence.

What do I get with you entering my life the way you did?

Is this destiny? Is this fate? Is this circumstantial? Was it created by coincidences?

Was it to learn? Was it to heal?

The cosmos aligning two souls, meeting each other for the first time, however it maybe.

The living being, enveloping you into a world where it is just you and him. No judgement, where happiness lives within us. His body providing you with warmth, security, and comfort. His skin against your skin electrifying the air surrounding you, your body feeling alive.

How they can leave with a blink of an eye.

The small moments that you lived with him, you rewind in your mind like a broken record. Holding onto him because you know there is no-one like him.

How it never matters for the distance for, your soul and his soul are intertwined together. You feel him around you, his presence consuming you, your heart longing for him.

Catching yourself daydreaming, wondering how his day is going, is he okay? What is he doing at this moment? Hoping he is safe and well, wanting to experience living in his world just once.

Wondering if he is doing the same too….

(This is a segment part of a creative writing I am currently doing. Had the urge to share it. Much Love, Konijja)

Standard
Blog, Creative Writing

Prologue

The rhythm of the ocean swaying gently into the shore. The soft, tender breeze caressing my face. The cool wind quietly swallowing my loud mind. My feet pillowing the smooth sand, the water mirroring my pained reflection. My eyes magnifying the troubled soul that wanted to let out the cries, wanting to be heard, wanting to be felt.

I dreamt of living near the ocean, to live in a place where I could be in solitude, living in the silence and being surrounded by Earth’s nature. For wishing that the first thing I wake up to is the sight of the ocean, and for the last vision that my eyes see before entering a dreamless state is the sight of the ocean.

Walking back towards my home. The well-lit up lanterns on both of the pillars in my front porch providing a dimly lit glow, walking up the steps and opening the door to be welcomed with sweet heaven. Living alone had provided me with safety I have never felt, comfort I seek, in not relying on anybody but my own self. Looking at the place that I have created, the spacious opening. The airy space of this house had me hooked and captivated in its beauty, for the crisp sounds of the ocean echoing into my home, instant lull of peace. My safe haven, my healer. Breathing in and exhaling, living within the atmosphere of Earth’s nature, the cleanliness of the cooling air, the autumn breeze giving me goosebumps, the little hairs on my arms standing up. Gazing at the open space of the ground floor. The bright shades of whites and grays opening the house, the simplicity of my home allowing my mind to breathe, in bringing harmony in my soul and spirit. Walking down the hallway, up the stairs, through the expansive hallway with walls that are filled with my favourite people, decorated with personal art, down the corridor to my bedroom. The glass interior allowing the first glance to be the picturesque, serene view of water which the night sky accompanies. The full moon being a hint of pink leaving me breathless at the sheer beauty of the visionary sight, the lunar moon is a sight to behold as I gaze at the glimpses of differing shades of grey. The gleaming, shimmering stars illuminating the darkness, beautifying the sky with its glistening celestial galaxies. Pure heaven.

Laying in the bed, pulling the duvet over my body. Bringing myself in a straight position lying on my back, I dread the moment when sleep should take over me. The memories, thoughts, the emotions that want attention, wanting to surface into my consciousness overpowering me. I dread the moments of nightfall. The tides of the ocean lulling me into drowsiness.

“There is peace in acceptance” I whisper.

“I am not identified with pain” I utter.

“My suffering does not make me who I am” I affirm.

“I am okay” I speak.

Yet, the tears begin to roll down my cheeks into my hairline, the flow of tears rushing down my face. Turning to my sides, with my knees up and a hunched back, squeezing the side of my pillow into the shape of a fist. The hot tears continuously streaming down my face, my body shaking along with the waves of the heaving tears, wheezing until I become breathless with sore skin. It has always been like this, for years the void in my soul getting heavier, deepening into my being disappearing into abyss, into emptiness. Overcome with sleep, my eyes begin to close, as sleep takes over me, silencing me into a subconscious trance. Before swimming into unconsciousness, “Save me.” I murmur, unknowingly mumbling the words that have shifted my whole goddamn world.

(Thank you for reading. This is a prologue for a passion project. Hope you have enjoyed what is written so far. Much Love, Konijja)

Standard
Blog, Creative Writing

Silence (My Healer)

Drip. Drop. Goes the sound of the water. Drips of water that left the hot tap leaving the sink disappearing down the drain. The silence. The silence that surrounds me, the silence that comforts me, silence is within everything. Every living thing, in everything that I do. Silence after I breathe, silence after each footstep. Silence after the madness, pain. Silence in every laughter, every shout of joy. Silence when I wake up, and when I fall asleep. Silence after gushes of wind moving through my body, silence surrounds me. Silence after the intense conversation and nothing to say. What comes after the noise is the silence. Silence lives within.

Every tears, cries ending in silence, Every laughter that I have shared ending in silence, every breath that I exhaled ending in silence. Every voice ending in silence, the noise quietening and silence embracing me. The sharp pain within my chest evolving into nothingness, ending and transforming into silence, into calmness. Into tranquility.

The distant lull of the water hitting the shore, each wave flowing in the rhythm of the gentle, swaying trees with the pelting rain. Every stream of water, every sway of the leaves in trees ending in silence.

Looking out the window, gazing at my view. The moonlight illuminating against the now luminiscent ocean. The sound of the tender waves of the ocean in level with Earth, the serene flow of swooning trees, the gentle and light breeze. Peace. The twinkling stars gleaming within the sky, along the moon igniting, brightening the sky. Radiating the wonderful perfection of this magnificent Universe. My healer.

Pain does not have to be something I have to be accustomed with. Pain is fleeting and emotions move, evolve and shift into abyss. Just lke the wax holding onto the fragrance of jasmine until it cannot anymore. Just like when the rain stops, the rainbow reveals its presence accompanied with the sun. Just like agony, suffering transforming into love and peace and pain turning into joy, into happiness.

I can become one.

“I am okay. I am living. I am breathing” I chant to myself.

Walking towards my bedside, lighting up the candle. The gradual, delicate scent of jasmine oozing from its wax. The sweetness of jasmine streaming into the darkest corners of my room. Warm, toasty blanket of the heavenly scent surrounding me. Refreshing and tingling my senses with its divine aura of healing energies and sensuality.

The rush of emotions pouring over me, the intense sharpness against my chest, reaching into my throat. Intensifying, inflaming within. The tingling sensations writhing against my eyes, the watery substance flowing down my cheeks in freefall. “I am okay, I am alive, I am breathing” I chant to myself, tasting the saltiness of my tears. “I miss him” I weakly whisper in admission, speaking into nothingness. Into silence. The ocean crashing against the shore in sync with me, the rain welting down, fading into the hollowness of the ocean. Inhaling the fragmatic aroma of jasmine, the pleasant scent that soothes, silencing the tones of sadness. Quietly calming my soul and body into a dreamless state of peace. Into silence.

Standard