Letters from God

The same mirror I've stood in front of for years,
But time stands still for no one.
First there was one, then two, three and now four;
Four letters from God.
Others hide them; colour, mask or just pull them out.
But not I.
I like them; 
They're assurances,         
Reminders of yesteryear.
A time gone by; a happy, joyous, carefree, youthful time.          
The best years of my life, 
And of course, 
The time since.

© Amy Serafina

Soul f***

Deep, dark, mysterious depth,

buried hidden under layers of skin;
Your soul shines bright through your eyes.

Blooming, glowing, calling me to you.
A pull so fierce I can't stop.
It grabs my core, shakes it from its root and dances in the moonlight.

My body grows weak,
But inside, I'm alive!
With you I somersault in the wind,
Screaming with joy! 

     
Ecstatic and beyond limit,
My soul shivers with orgasmic delight!

© Amy Serafina

Who knew that poplar station was directly opposite you?
Certainly not I.
But twice a day, I'm reminded that it is.

The further I try to get away from you,
The closer they push me to you.
The impulse to jump off the train and...
And what?
I don't know...catch a glimpse of you?

Your weird eccentricities amidst the white shirts you wear every day,
Your fluffy black coat that you so proudly display,
Your smile,
That twinkle in your eyes,                       
The scrunched up nose as you giggle to yourself;
that naughty thought, yes, you had it again!                                           

So, twice a day I'm stuck.
Opposite you.
So close, yet so far.

© Amy Serafina

Yesteryear,
A day lasted forever.
When you were here,
In my room, so near.
I remember then,
How nice it was.
You and me, holding hands,
Walking so far.
That day, you took me to school.
It was sunny out,
But much nicer within.
You were my protector,
The man that never left my side.
I didn't know then,
But I know now,
That you weren't an invincible hero
But a human too.
And then of course,
Your time came
And you had to go.
Left me alone,
in the rain I cried.
Perhaps we'll meet again - by the fountain soon?

© Amy Serafina

Madinah

The people come in droves. The numbers increase each passing day but Madinah is not fazed. It welcomes all. The many faces; white, black, brown, yellow. The many languages. And yet, this is a place where none of this matters. In fact as I sit here, I can't help but think of Malcolm X’s letter from hajj:

"There were tens of thousands of pilgrims, from all over the world. They were of all colors, from blue-eyed blondes to black-skinned Africans. But we were all participating in the same ritual, displaying a spirit of unity and brotherhood that my experiences in America had led me to believe never could exist between the white and the non-white.

You may be shocked by these words coming from me. But on this pilgrimage, what I have seen, and experienced, has forced me to rearrange much of my thought patterns previously held, and to toss aside some of my previous conclusions. This was not too difficult for me. Despite my firm convictions, I have been always a man who tries to face facts, and to accept the reality of life as new experience and new knowledge unfolds it. I have always kept an open mind, which is necessary to the flexibility that must go hand in hand with every form of intelligent search for truth.

During the past eleven days here in the Muslim world, I have eaten from the same plate, drunk from the same glass and slept in the same bed (or on the same rug)-while praying to the same God with fellow Muslims, whose eyes were the bluest of the blue, whose hair was the blondest of blond, and whose skin was the whitest of white. And in the words and in the actions and in the deeds of the ‘white' Muslims, I felt the same sincerity that I felt among the black African Muslims of Nigeria, Sudan and Ghana.

We are truly all the same-brothers.

All praise is due to Allah, the Lord of the worlds."

The hundreds and thousands of people, but still Madinah remains tranquil. The peacefulness and contentment I feel cannot be explained. I’m sitting in the courtyard, having just prayed Maghreb. The gentle hubbub of people around me and yet I could hear a pin drop amongst this crowd.

The gentle breeze continues to blow across my face. I am lost in my thoughts; in fact the thoughts in themselves are blank, empty. The birds are chirping away. They weren’t here before but I like this addition. As the prayers are led, it seems like they are praying along.

© Amy Serafina

The Arrival

We’ve arrived; sleep deprived with swollen feet. All I want right now is my bed. My brother is waiting in the line to check in our luggage for the domestic flight. I’m sitting inside the airport, under a fake tree with my mum. The sun is slowly beginning to rise. Amazing where we started our day and now where we’ve ended.

It’s quite beautiful here; the swarms of men parading in white thobes with a few dots of yellow. The yellow shirted men help with luggage and are distinctly foreign looking whilst the men in white are Arabs. Power imbalances at work, clear for all to notice. Oh! I forgot the cleaners in blue. There aren’t many of them around here, just a handful.

The gentle breeze comforts me; slowly brushing across my face and providing light relief from the heat.

My brother’s gone to the bathroom, again. If anyone knows him, they will tell you he’s no stranger to a bathroom. In fact he practically lives in them!

© Amy Serafina

The Journey Begins

And so, the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.

In the car towards the airport, I do the mandatory fb update. A status to indicate the journey of a lifetime. And even then, the hesitancy of what I should write. How it might be taken or perceived. Even then I am mindful of others.

My heart though, it begins to yearn. I can’t describe the yearning. There are no words. It’s a feeling; pressured and rushed. It just knows that it NEEDS to get there, soon, quick, NOW.

The heart wants what it wants, and neither logic nor wisdom can prevent it so.

© Amy Serafina