A poem I wrote for a friend

What’s the worst thing that can happen?
That he leaves you for another, citing irreconcilable differences he

chose to scrutinise and publicise, leaving you ostracised.

Or he secretly takes another, justifying his activity as a reflection of his

Increased moral objectivity and spiritual connectivity

Yet his prayers aren’t even a priority and he skips through
The Quranic recitations on his iPod playlist to ‘hot in the city’.

What’s the worst thing that can happen?
That he stops finding you interesting, the intrigue and awe
Dulled by too much familiarity, by too much predictability
Because he doesn’t value the comfort of knowing, it just doesn’t get him going
To hear the same old same old: he needs excitement to keep him blowing
You passionate kisses and longing gazes…

Or he might notice the changes in your body, as you carry his son
To term and endure the pangs of growing into mother, with all her
Visible marks carved into her skin, the thin white lines bearing witness
To the vines of wisdom and love and transcendent priorities
But all he sees are the scars and marks that he didn’t sign up for,
Limited by his skin deep myopia.

If the worst does happen, then surely you don’t need
To heed his double standard creed or feed his outrageous greed
For a lifetime’s unconditional commitment- indeed
God Himself does not command that you tolerate such an unjust breed

But

Meanwhile, my sister, don’t dwell in worst case narratives
In the wearing world of constant comparatives and
Free yourself of these destructive thoughts,
That have brought about nothing but worry and warts

And know this:
no man or woman is wronged and it goes un-noted
By the One, the All-Knowing, All-Seeing.
So be free, my sister. Live with hope. Love without fear
Nothing is lost and all is gained where it counts most my dear.

Advice to my children #2

Dear children,

If I was to insist on you fostering and embedding just one attribute in your character, it would be forgiveness.

As much as I am loathe to say it, there will be times when people, even those you love and trust, will hurt you, knowingly or otherwise. And sometimes, the pain of that hurt will be so pronounced and its impact so enduring that it will cast its shadow on your heart, inviting hardness and excluding your softer inclinations. The hurt, if left untreated may induce anger, and anger is a volatile, dangerous emotion. The prophet (s) warned us about its dangers, in his hadith recorded by Al-Bukhari:

On the authority of Abu Huraira (may Allah be pleased with him): A man came to the Prophet (peace and blessing of Allah be upon him) and said, “Advise me.” He [the Prophet (peace be upon him)] said, “Do not become angry.” The man repeated [his request] several times and he [the Prophet (peace be upon him)] said, “Do not become angry.”

You know this hadith and recite it regularly, so please heed its message.

Anger gives rise to the desire for revenge, which is not to be confused with retribution. Revenge is a vile, soul-consuming disease; it is the antithesis of forgiveness. Retribution, or more specifically divine retribution, is God-sanctioned and delivered justice. It is perfect justice, something which no man or woman could match. So, should you really want to exact retribution, I urge you only to ever pray for that, but if you can find it in your heart to do so, forgive them and pray that God forgives them and guides them and shows them mercy.

Forgiveness will not make you less of a person, it does not make you a fool, and it does not take away from the fact you've been wronged. On the contrary, it will make you a bigger person, kinder, more humble and much more likeable. Remember, nothing is lost with God, the All-knowing, All-seeing, and that's all that really matters.

Love,
Mum

Sweet Slumber

Here is a little lullaby I wrote for my children many years ago (when my girls were wee ones). I say wrote, but I actually just made it up as I went along, and scribbled it down so it wouldn't escape through the holes of my sieve-like brain. It's become our very own family lullaby, and is still enjoyed as much today as it was all those years ago.

May your slumber be sweet
Your rest be complete
With every heartbeat
My sweet precious girl/s*

May you dream of sunrise
And soothing lullabies
A world of blue skies
My sweet precious girls

Sleep now my dear/s
For morning is here
And I'll be right here
My sweet precious girls

Just close your eyes
And I'll whisper goodnight
What a beautiful sight
My sweet precious girls.


*Girls can be swapped for boys!

The truth? You can't handle the truth!

Girls, I'd like to take you back a few years to those very awkward Personal Development classes in high school. Much was discussed about the developing body, physical relationships, reproduction and even sexual health. Most of it was intriguing, some of it completely unnecessary (certainly at 13 years of age- won't go into detail here!) and for the most part it was just a whole lot of abstract knowledge that wouldn't need to be accessed for a long time to come. But it was still knowledge. Which for the most part, was better than none.

And that was it really. That was the extent of our official education on the issues pertaining to the female body. Apart from a single picture of a grown woman's anatomy (marked by fully developed breasts and broader child-bearing-ready hips), there was no real mention of the range of impacts reproduction would (or could) actually have.

Fast forward a decade or so, and here you are, 6 weeks pregnant and sick as a parrot. Or not. You immediately look bloated, like you've eaten something that doesn't agree with you all that well. Or not. By 10 weeks your bra size has more than doubled, you are quickly gaining weight on your hips, thighs and butt. Or not. 18 weeks and your bump is well and truly out there; you've moved another bra size, you're into maternity pants, and even your wedding ring is starting to get uncomfortable. Or not. 24 weeks- oh no! Could it be that those little purple lines are not veins but tears of the dermis, nasty nasty scars also known as STRETCHMARKS! Argh!!! Or  not. By 30 weeks, your tummy feels stretched to capacity, and your previous 'innie' navel is now (and possibly forevermore) an 'outie', and at some angles, you look almost as pregnant from behind as you do from the front.

As your due date approaches you resign yourself to your current state of' unfit: you can't even see your lower half anymore without the aid of a mirror, your closed shoes have long been put into storage, your swollen feet preferring (dare I say it *gasp*) t-h-o-n-g-s, and you struggle to even sit upright never mind lie comfortably. Or not. Whatever your specific case may be, my guess is its closer to the former of the dual statements than the latter.

Regardless, hope is not lost. Once you birth this baby, your body will quickly bounce back to its glorious pre-pregnancy self! A little bit of exercise, healthy food choices and you'll be back in those jeans in no time. 

Or so you think.

Well, your PD teacher never mentioned a third anatomy. There was no post-baby woman.

But the baby arrives (after what you could only call a near-death experience- some may put a more positive spin on it, but ultimately, its best to call a spade a spade). After some time, you get up and waddle (or crawl) into the shower, you look down and ...deep intake of breath... Where your baby bump once was is a slightly but not completely deflated sack of traumatised skin. And those thighs that had been hidden are, to put it bluntly, gi-normous!

No, it wasn't a very unkind nightmare. And no, its not all hunky-dory the next day. Days, weeks and even months pass before your body even begins to resemble your pre-pregnancy self. And not even your exact self, but a slightly modified version of you. And the modifications will be quite individual, granted. But they will be there nonetheless. Modifications you had never been told about, you'd never planned for, anticipated or invited. They appeared without your permission and in most cases, usurp your body much to your discontent.

Which brings me back to my opening point. Many of us, many of our girls, have had no real preparation for this inevitable process. They have not had the discussions, they have not been eased into the realities of these (in some cases life-altering) changes. They have had no preparation whatsoever, and consequently, end up getting a nasty shock which can and often does manifest in a variety of ways.

That's not to say there is anything wrong with these changes. On the contrary, they are completely natural and a part of our God-given role as mother. But that shouldn't equate to simply expecting to accept them after the fact. I do believe that when armed with this prior knowledge, our girls will be far more able to process the changes and ultimately be at peace with their bodies. Which can only be a good thing.

It may sound naive, it may even sound vain, but given the uber-body conscious society in which we live, I don't think its too much to ask. So, methinks its back to the drawing board for the PDHPE high school syllabus writers. And until then, mothers, please talk to your girls/sisters/girlfriends. Or talk to me :)

His Rafa

Listening to this evokes a very real physical reaction and swiftly takes me back to a dark place that I have long since arrested under lock and key. Its hard to believe that almost a decade on, I can still have such an intensely vivid sensory response simply by hearing a tune from that time.


The special Ones- George.


Isn't it funny how you never really screamed at my face,

but your anger so unspoken and unchannelled
permeates my essence to the point where I
Don't want to see you hear you, be anywhere near you,
you probably think I'm threatened by you
but your illusionary power doesn't threaten me

Actually I think it's kind of funny that you create an illusion that is a mirror,
I don't appreciate you and I know that that surprises you
I suppose you see that those who follow their heart always win,
those with integrity have won the match before it's begun


So rather than being kicked around, I'm going to kick you to the curb
So rather than being pushed around, I'm going to push you away first
So rather than trying to protect you, I'm going to cover my bases first
So rather than trying to open my heart, I'm going to lock it with a key
So that only the special ones, so that only the special ones, can ever get through to me


Some can see beyond the barrier of threshold
whereas others can't see beyond their sculptured mould,
you could offer me nothing, you could offer me nothing that I need
Do you think I'm asking too much?
A kind of respect and trust that shouldn't even be questioned,
how can I open my heart with dishonesty sitting next to me?


I've honoured your honour to the point of embarrassment,
but innocence in the hands of the guilt-free is kicked to, is kicked to the curb
I was ashamed of my innocence,
I was ashamed of my innocence
but now with clarity I see that your bullshit is just not worthy of me

I don't want to be angry
This is not worthy of me and now with clarity I see
that I can walk away, I can walk away...