Thursday, November 11, 2010

The Toy Collector


Here is a glimpse into one of my newer poems ... post book release :)
Enjoy!



The Toy Collector


Specks of dust begin to collect
You’ve forgotten about me
Before the shelf you decide which to select
It’s always any other doll but me

Wind the clock back so many hours
Like the toy mouse on your floor
What happened to that love of ours?
Why don’t you want me anymore?

Day after day I tell myself to wait
Patience is a virtue
But life on the shelf seems my fate
Because the dream of us never comes true

My porcelain skin of ivory is beginning to crack
The tears have etched their trails
The still beating heart doesn’t know if you’re coming back
But you wouldn’t be the first who fails

At least wipe the dust off my pink silk dress
Remember me
I know my doll-like perfection has ceased to impress
Just don’t forget me

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Melting Away to The Real You

Is it really a crime to desire sharing your life with someone? To know what you want from your life as well? I mean I would really love to know why everyone, EVERYONE, is so persistent to tell me that I am in a useless rush. “Enjoy your life, you’re still young,” she says, right beside her husband and two children. Wait, so are you saying you regretted what you have right beside you? “No, I just wish I could have waited longer.” Think about it though, had you waited just ONE minute longer, your life would not be the one you have. In some cases maybe that is what people want, but in other cases that means the man/woman beside you would not be your spouse; those amazing children that bring smiles to your face would not even exist; and maybe, the other great opportunities that came your way would have never even reached your feet. Let me tell you something, it has nothing to do with age or time. It has to do with who you are. How prepared are YOU?

The answers to this can really only come from within. I mean really deep down within, not the surface answer you convince yourself, and the world around you, of. I have seen people hit ages much older than me and marry because the pressure that they are “getting old” and then enter the trend of divorce. They were not ready. I knew it. I said it. I was ignored. And now here I am, defending my own heart, confident of my own abilities, and still ignored.

Sometimes I think I can see the reflection of the glass walls that hold me. I am in there alone. Everyone else out there. If I even manage to get out, would I really fit in? This box seems to be a better fit each time. I remember a few years back when I was shoved in there by this persistent girl who was a complete stranger. Strangers seem to be the perfect candidates to target me. We were having a discussion about relationships and why most are failing. In literal terms, this girl, only two years older than me, stated I was a stupid 21-year-old kid that had no idea what I wanted or what I was saying. When I asked her how she could come to this closed minded solution she simply said, “Because when I was 21, I was just like you, thinking I knew it all. And just a few months later, I grew and learned more. And now two years later, I know a lot more.” THAT was her big proof? I sat up straight, breathed in deep, and gave her my mature answer. “Well, let me just say, I am confident that I don’t know everything. And I’m even more confident that I’m not you. So don’t even think that you can judge me based on how immature YOU were. And you’re right about one thing, we do learn more and more things everyday. But if I were to take that advice and apply it to getting married, I couldn’t get married till I was dead because then I’d be saying, “Oh I cant marry now, because next week I’ll be learning something to make me more mature, more ready!’”

She wasn’t amused and I didn’t care. She got what she deserved and that was the truth. I still don’t understand how people approach every human being the same way. Has no one ever heard of diversity? She hears that I’m 21 and that number is suddenly enough evidence to convict me. “The jury finds the defendant, 21 year old, GUILTY of being way too young to have an opinion or desire or ambitions she’s going after. She is sentenced to a lifetime of singlehood and criticism.” I look up with fear at the words that were thrown at me. “Um excuse me your honor, I already have that punishment. Can I get something new? Like a car? A dog? Something?!?!”

Nothing comes my way except more criticism and possible candidates (suitors) that almost immediately prove themselves unacceptable. If not immediately, they manage to find a charming and pathetic manner to show me later. It is hard for me when this happens; it’s hard on most girls—especially Arab ones. Each time I think I have found a proper respectable potential, I get close, so very close that I begin to melt. He is the flame and I am the metal. I get closer and I burn. It hurts but I convince myself that it is worth it. I will be in a better shape once it’s finalized. Without warning he shuts down, disappears, and leaves me there to burn out on my own. Just like the metal, I may have completely changed on the outside, but after cooling down, I am still the same metal I was before—strong, dependable, only weak when the fire gets close enough to melt me. For years my base has stayed the same, it is just my outer layers the may have changed.

It is only expected to get burned a few times in life, but the important thing is not changing your base, your foundation, your principles and morals—who you are for real. I know who and what I am, but I guess no one else does…or they refuse to know. They look for the diamonds and glam, and instead I am the metal covered with ash. A color that on the outside seems to have no shine or appeal. But I have yet to find the one wise enough to wipe away the dust and wreckage of the past, that buries me deep, to reveal the bright shine that he knows will come off my metal edges.

Maybe there will be a small part of me, the real me, revealed underneath it all and he will be the one only that notices it instantly. It would be like the moment our eyes connect. The moment I say something that impresses him. Or the moment I smile. Just the moment that will flash before him and make him realize my existence and my worth. I may not be a sparkling diamond, but metal is more useful on many more occasions.

Everyone desires to be seen as worthy, so what makes my desire to want that so criminal? Because I am young? Or hold up, because I’m female? How come I see no justification in that? Probably because there isn’t.

People cannot judge others based on what they get from the outer glance. There is something else, something deep, layers and layers of build up above the foundation. All of that together makes up who this person is. Like a fingerprint—it differentiates every single person. No one can tell me that I am too young for anything or that I need to slow down in life. I have a strong foundation and I believe in myself. One day, not sure when, someone else will notice this too.