He Never Really Understood

.. And she shared with him all her insecurities. She admitted all her weaknesses and despairs. She told him of all the fears that wandered through her mind. She was willing to stand bare before him, never having to hold her guard nor to look strong. 

She'd rarely unfold, she'd never admit weakness voluntarily. But to him, she did. She didn't know why, but she did.

Yet, he never really understood what this meant. He never really understood that this meant she loved him. Or maybe he did. Maybe he chose to ignore.

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البدوي والمطر

من سمر..

تتعجبين أيتها القادمة من مرافيء الثلوج

من فرحتي المجنونة البدائية بالــمــطـــر

تضحكين وأنت تشاهدينني أعدو في المطر

أشربه .. وأغسل وجهي به كطفل صغير لم يسمع عن الزكام .

وتبتسمين وأنت تسمعين حديثي الذي لا ينقطع 

مع الدموع البيضاء الصغيرة ..

ذلك أنك لا تدركين أنني أحمل في دمائي

عطش ألف صحراء

ومعاناه ألف مفازه..

ووحشة ألف ربع خال ..

أنا ابن الذين وضعوا للغيم مائة اسم واسم ..

من أين ابدأ ؟؟!!

الدجن ام السحاب ام الديم أم الغمام أم الوكاف أم ..

ذلك الزائر البخيل الجهام ؟!

ووضعوا للمطر مائة اسم واسم ..

هل اترجم لك معنى القطر أم الــــرهــام أم الهـــتـــان أم الغــيــث 

أم الوابل أم العارض أم المزن أم الرذاذ أم الوسم ؟!!

فماذا وضع جدودك من أسماء ؟!

أنا ابن أولئك الذين كانوا لا يرتحلون إلا بحثا عن المطر ..

ولا ينيخون إلا على واحات المطر 

أولئك الذن يقولون للزمان الذاهب الرائع .. جــــادك الغــيــث!

الذين يقولون للحبيب الراحل : جـادك الغـيـث !

اللذين يشبهون الكريم بالمطر 

الذين يشبهون الحياه نفسها ... بالحـيــا

أحمل في داخلي .. أيتها الغريبة الحسناء ..

وجع كل طفلة بدوية ماتت عندما انحبس المطر

وضحكة كل طفل بدوي ولد على أذرع المطر

أحمل في داخلي؛  باختصار ..

أنـشودة الـمـطـر

دعيني إذن – أستأنف حواري مع هذه القطرة التي حطت على جفني :

أوّاااه ياقطرة المـطــر ! !

ليتني كنت مثلك

أستطيع أن أمنح انسانا واحدا 

هذه الومضة الحلوة 

من ومضات الحـيــــاة .....

غازي القصيبي

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ليتني

Tranquil

There's something almost tranquillising about being under the rain. Especially when you're warm and dry, wether you're sat inside by the window, or you're in your car stuck in traffic.

The greyness of the world outside.

The sound of the rain as it lands. 

The circular scatters of drops and the tiny rivers that form on surfaces. 

The mist that builds up on the inside of windows. 

It's just magical.

I'm stuck in traffic, already late for my shift. Usually, I'd be super anxious. This time I'm surprisingly not, I'm just tranquil.

N.B. Ofcourse, standing under the rain with/without an umbrella is a whole new story.

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Fixed and Dilated

I've never seen someone who was dead, let alone stood next to or even touched.

This is almost the end of my fifth month of internship, I'm rotating in ER. We get a call that a patient in cardiac arrest is coming in by ambulance. We prep; gowns, masks, gloves donned, and stand waiting.

A gentleman is brought in on a stretcher, one of the paramedics is stood on the edge of the stretcher performing CPR while the others push. He's transferred onto the ER bed, and a nurse takes over. He's hooked onto a cardiac monitor, I here the word "asystole." I review the steps of CPR we were taught, with my eyes shifting to and fro between the monitor and the patient's chest. I hear the word "pulsless," and "fixed dilated pupils," then hear "CPR for 70 minutes," and I know logically that that's the end of it. I still keep my eyes on the monitor. There's a wave, but I know it's pulsless activity, but don't want to believe it. "That's it guys, announced time of death 22:20." I feel nothing.

The remaining half hour of the shift is the longest 30 minutes of my life. We ungown, the senior writes some notes, and we go back to the station. I stand while the rest of the doctors continue chatting and discussing normally, as if nothing has happened. I watch as they cover him up and take him away. I still feel nothing, but begin zoning out. My senior asks me to take a look at a new patient that had come in with chest pain, to ask him what was troubling him and to examine him. I've never been more robotic, I do what I'm told, but can't think. I've never left the ER that fast, I just couldn't stand being there anymore. How could everything just go on normally after what had just happened?

He wasn't from here. (Can I actually say "was"? Shouldn't it be "is"? I don't know! "Was" just doesn't feel right) I'm not sure he has family here. It's just, he passed away so far from home. I hope he does have family here, I'm not sure why, but I do.

I've never in my life seen someone dead. Standing there didn't feel real. I've always thought I'd be afraid in the presence of death, but I wasn't, I just felt numb. I had helped examine him, I checked his pupils; fixed and dilated, I now know what that means. I'm not sure I'm particularly thrilled about this new piece of info I've gained. I didn't flinch once, what's wrong with me? I voluntarily took the torch, opened his eyes with my own hand, and took a look. Shouldn't I have at least been afraid? Hesitant?

I'm really not sure what I'm meant to be doing or feeling right now. I know this is part of the career I signed up for. I know it'll be a lot worse if a patient dies in front of me, or even worse, on my watch. But for now, I just don't know.

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"We wanted to give you space."

How many situations have you analyzed after they were over and asked yourself, "What the heck was I thinking?" But then again, it's always easier to criticize in retrospect, isn't it? It's also much easier when it's someone else you're criticizing.

I don't think it's possible to see yourself in the middle of a big mess; the fine lines between right and wrong blur so inconveniently. That's when friends come in, or they should at least.

A sentence that cracks me up time after time, "I wanted to tell you, but." But what?! Seriously what?! What kept you so quiet for so long? How could you see so clearly that I was lost and didn't see that I couldn't see it for myself?

One of the great answers I get for this is, "We wanted to give you space." This draws a smile of disgust on my face each and every time.

I truly believe there are no boundaries between "real" friends. A real friend tells you what they think regardless of whether you'll like it or not, regardless of whether you want to hear it or not. They'll tell you at that time that you're screwing up, not after the storm has passed. Friends don't "give you space", they don't let you wander around lost. They don't suddenly turn up after you've gotten up on your feet and start giving you words of wisdom you don't need anymore, but needed badly back when you were falling.

Please don't give space no one ever asked for. Please don't tell someone, "I wanted to tell you, but." Saying you wanted to do something is one thing, and actually doing it is a whole something else. If you didn't have the guts to speak when it mattered, don't bother saying anything afterwards.

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A Synchronous Laugh

The fondest of images in my mind are; 

(1) my brothers sat side by side all excited laughing together about something or other. Yes, most of the time they're laughing at the screen of an iPad, but so long as they're both looking at "one" screen and laughing like crazy "together". 

That's enough to make my heart smile <3

(2) my parents talking, telling a story, discussing work, the house, us, and suddenly bursting out into laughter together.

That synchronous laugh means the world <3

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Once upon a time

I was talented once upon a time.

I was a photographer; I respected color and light, saw hidden angles and untold stories.

I was a lot of things before, I was fierce, energetic and daring.

What am I now? Is this what growing up is?

I look into the mirror every day trying to find the answer, who am I?

Feeling bad

I thought I'd already accepted the fact that sometimes I'd have to sacrifice family time in exchange for study/work time.

But I never cease to feel bad each time my little brothers come in to my room and ask, "Will you play Monopoly with us?"

Nor does my answer of, "I have to study/work," ever stop them from replying, " but you always have to study!"

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Listen to Your Child

When your children tries to talk to you, listen. Or they will forever be silenced.

Listen, or they will never run back to you when they face despair.

Listen, or you shall never hear the songs they sing in their hearts, nor shall you see the tears they shed.

Listen, no matter how old they get, just listen.

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I just write

They tell me to collapse, to cry, to unveil my real feelings.

But I don't.

I just write.

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Alone, amongst a hundered people.

And you find yourself alone, amongst a hundered people.

You find yourself smiling, a smile that rips through your heart deeper the wider it gets.

You find yourself listening, nodding, offering advice, patting someone's back, while all you want to really do is disappear into thin air.

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حين تريد وحين أحتاج

لن أقبل (ولا أحتمل) أن تحضر حين تريد ولا تحضر حين لا تريد.

فإما أن تكن حاضرًا طوال الوقت، وإلا فلا تحضر أبدا.

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Problem is, it's real

You know how throughout university they teach us stuff, and we memorize it word by word, symptom by symptom, sign by sign.

You know how we were always told "common is common, but keep your eyes open for the red flags."

So, I memorized everything word by word, symptom by symptom, sign by sign. I kept my eyes open for the red flags. I did everything they taught me to do.

But truly and in the back of my mind, I always just thought of all of it as words in a book, fiction.

Problem is, it's real </3

I'm tired of leaving

I'm tired of leaving,

I'm tired of containing myself while I say goodbye.

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حين يصبح المألوف غير مريح

تتغير المعطيات ويظل المكان.

فيذكرك المكان الذي لم يتغير بالمعطيات القديمة التي تغيرت.

حينها، يصبح المألوف غير مريح.

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نجوم بلا طلب

لا تخيّب ظننا النجوم، تظهر دائمًا بلا طلب.

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Glimpses of a Person

It's difficult when you can no longer recognize someone, when you look at the face, but no longer understand how it's the same person. You see glimpses of your person for a mere split second, and then it dissolves as fast as it came, and you end up looking desperately for that familiar face you saw for just a moment.

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Those who have seen you

Those who have seen you cry, those who have witnessed your tears, have seen something so close, so deep, so sacred.

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أرجوك لا تقرر بالنيابة عني

أرجوك لا تقرر بالنيابة عني، حتى وإن كنت تفعل ذلك مراعاة لي.

لا تظن أنك تسدي إلي معروفا حين تفترض ما أريده.

أسألني فقط، احترم رغبتي في الاختيار بنفسي. هذا كل ما أطلبه.

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A Crying Lady

I once saw a lady with her face in her hands. When she lifted her head, she was crying. I stepped towards her, but then turned back.

If I were in her place I wouldn't want to explain to a stranger why I was crying. But I still feel bad that I walked away.

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A sparkle in her eye

And she lived with a tear in her eye, a tear that nobody ever noticed, a tear that everyone thought was just a sparkle in her eye.

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A paper, pen, and nausea

One knows that they will become nauseated while reading in a car, or while holding a pen and writing on a plane. Yet, one reads and writes till they reach the fine line between nausea and vomiting, and are forced to stop almost against their will.

Do a paper and pen, alone or together, have that much power over their holder? Power that overwhelms them so strongly, that they no longer recognise their own discomfort till it's far too late.

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لماذا تبكين يا صغيرتي؟

لماذا تبكين يا صغيرتي؟

لن توقف دموعك الحرب، ولن تردع الظالم.

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I wish I had a tree in my bedroom

I wish I had a tree in my bedroom, a tree that showed all four seasons within one week.

That way when I'm stuck in my room studying for a week (or more), and when I lift my head up from my book to look at my room, I won't see the exact same room every time, the exact same room where nothing has changed within a week.

I'll look up to find the tree change from spring to summer, from summer to autumn, from autumn to winter, and then back to spring. All within a week! That way I'll find something different each time I lift my head up from my book.

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I now have a tree :) <3

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Next day update, I now have a spring/summer flower :) <3

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قصص

لكل منا قصة، وتتشابه القصص.
ونظل نسير بصمت ظانين أننا وحدنا.
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