Wednesday, 13 May 2020

Rizq

21:16:00
there is a weapon 
that i keep inside my pocket
poked into the strands of my hair bun
folded under my sleeves as i roll them up
it fights with me in every battle
it makes me win 
it will,
finally make me win

but the defeats towards the victory
makes me forget about the armour in my hands
the wings that soared me
the miracles that makes me heal
i blamed the Creator after thinking
i was tireless begging for help
to survive
but He gave me the shield for life
going through challenges and surviving
one
by
one

“Allah is the gifter of rizq. He tests you, but he also gives you a form of rizq to survive all of it through”
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Why Do I Still Write

21:15:00
It’s insane
the juggle of jargons
the manic grammar & punctuation
because modern day poetry
is all about aesthetics and grunge-ness
the crazy choices of words from
the dictionary that angsty 14-year-old
teenagers would use to “express themselves”
but here i am, 
still writing,
it’s addictive.

It’s self-escapism through metaphors.
a damsel in distress,
(sigh, always playing victim)
“the world stops for a while”
when it keeps on moving while i prefer
to be trapped in this non-existent time machine
it’s wishing upon a dry well,
all the fantasies that you won’t get.

but still,
it is comforting.
it does not hug you 
nor wipe your tears that fell
on the paper
but it lets you escape into 
that insane world whenever you
revisit the page 
hallucinating, if you ask me
but at least i know there
is another world that i’m safe to be in.
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Routine

21:14:00
I wake  up to the shift of the bedsheet 
as my mom scrolls through messages 
on her tablet
I open my eyes again,
her blanket is neatly folded
and the sun screams his rays at me
through the peeking curtain
standing straight on top of my roof
oops, it is now 12.

I was about to lie down again but my tummy keeps on bugging my mouth to open and my teeth to chew 
so I walked down the stairs and searched for any brunch ideals on the dining table.
I can hear the sewing machine hustling her nine to five day job accompanied by 
laughter, arguments and tears
basically,
a K-drama plot.

I came down again when my mom calls for lunch,
finally showered and dressed in my T-shirt and shorts
One plate is enough to doze me again,
this time when I wake up it might by four,
it might be six,
but
the long naps won’t budge my love affair with my sleeping schedule
now that’s what we call loyalty.

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