Category: being

~ Layla ~ Leave a comment 





14/08/21





Perched high up,

The wren,
The feather,
The acorn,

surveys the world of men and women.

Nations come and go.
Cities built and rebuilt.
People welcomed and unwelcomed.

How far they travel.
How high they build.
How deep they dig.

And yet,
When the times come, 

They scatter.
They dwindle.
They vanish.

Here today, gone tomorrow.

Empires,
Nations,
Countries,

Manmade allegiances. 

And how they kill,
And how they rape,
And how they pillage,

In the name of these banners.

We are what you are not.
You are what we are not.
Therefore we must kill.

How blood drenched
How jaw clenched,
How swords clanked

For a country.

Where do I belong?

Nor here, nor there.
Nor to you, nor to them.
Nor to myself, nor to the world.

To the path,
To the way,
To The Creator.

God.

They wave their flags.
They sing their anthems.
They weave their history.

I feel empathy.
I feel sympathy.
I feel apathy.

I am not yours.
I am not here.
I am not this.

I wish I did belong.

It would be easier.
It would be gentler.
It would be sweeter.

Instead,

I have each foot planted in a different soil.
I have each hand holding different trees.
I have each wings seeking a different horizon.


Must I belong anywhere?







			

	


				
					


	

		
Solace
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ 4 Comments					

				

		

02/05/21





Do you remember,

When the world stood still.
When the morning was still.
When we both stood still.

How quiet it was.
How peaceful it was.
How fragile it was.

Listening.
Yearning.
Hoping.

They said,

It was the end of an era.
It was the end of a story.
It was the end of the world.

But we stood still…

And listened,
To the birds sighing. 

And yearned,
For our hands to knot.

And hoped,
For the distance to melt-

They said,

Death, death,
Everywhere.

We said,

Love, love,
Everywhere.

And yet,
the birds kept on tweeting.

And yet,
our hands kept on yearning.

And yet,
our distance kept on hoping.

But we are still waiting.

Waiting for this page to turn,
Waiting for this fear to burn,
Waiting for this love to yearn.

Yearn,
Yearn,
Still yearning…

To hold,
To touch,
To kiss.

And still, they cry

Death,
Death,
Death!

What of those hands,
Who hold on to air?

What of those cheeks,
Who are kissed by the wind?

What of those hearts,
Who are embraced by darkness?

All those voices calling 
through the curtain of rain.

All those shoulders shaking,
through the hours of night.

All those smiles fading,
Through the shield of masks.

Echo through me.

And we pray,
And we hope,
And we promise,

Once this is over…

We will hold & cherish.
We will keep & love.
We will kiss & reach.

No one will be forgotten…

Not those who kept on going.
Not those who faded away.
Not those who stumbled down.

Never forgotten.

And you,
Oh you my dear.

My hope,
My secret,
My hidden gem.

Oh you...

You hear it,
You sense it,
You feel it,

What cannot be written yet.

And I join those who are waiting.
And I join those who are yearning.
And I join those who are hoping.

As we pray…

For the night to be over,
For the masquerade to be over,
For the battle to be over…

And for the joy of homecoming.
And for the joy of reunions.
And for the joy of shared laughter.

Believing,
Hoping,
Knowing,

We will get there.
We will live through.
We will rise over.

Those shadows…

Until we reach the pale dawn.
Until we reach the crescent moon.
Until we reach the next ridge,

That little cabin in the woods.
That bright window in the night.
That open door in the cold.

… And solace.










		
	
			

	


				
					


	

		
Pace of Change
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ Leave a comment					

				

		

To the firm shoulders
Carrying me.

To the warm embrace,
Holding me.

To the gentle gaze,
Watching me.

How near you are,
yet adrift.

As the winter becomes summer,
As the night becomes dawn,
As the continents become islands.

All must change.
All must flourish.
All must fade.

To that house,
With that cheerful sunroom.

To those forests,
With secret passages.

To that pasture,
With sleepy cows.

How familiar,
How mundane,
How boring

How real you are,
yet you are fading.

Whether the crows fly off,
and return.

Whether the trees shed,
and bloom.

Whether I leave,
or stay.

I cannot stop

The irrevocable,
The ever faster,
The ever absolute,

Pace of change.

It’s two in the morning,
Already two in the afternoon.

The nightingale has turned into a sparrow.
A sparrow will turn into a nightingale.

On and on,
Until they come for the trees.

And endurer we must

The irrevocable,
The ever faster,
The ever absolute,

Pace of change.

As we grow,
As we stretch,
As we bend,

Until we become the earth.

Did it really happen?
It must have.

But you must let it fade…

The past,
The future,
Into the present.

Listen oh listen!
Weary traveller
Listen oh Listen !

The night is full of life…

As they sleep on,
As they dream on,
As they breathe on,

Outside,
The night is thriving…

The thrill of the thrush 
The whisper of the nightjar
The dreams of the nightingale.

And the owls,
asking, always, asking.

Beyond them,

You can hear the cowbells.
You can hear the shivering trees.
You can hear the distant horizon.

How can they sleep

When the forest is calling.
When the night is awakening.
When the silence is a hymn.

Those who sleep do not know…

Time is but a cloud.
Time is but a speck.
Time is but a lull.

And beyond it,

Night stretches from one mountain to the next.
Peace filters through one branch to the next.
Eternity glows through one instant to the next.

Hold my hand,
Hear my voice,
Heed my song.

Let us not despair.
Let us not forget.
Let us not cry.

The pink moon rise over the laced branches.
The amber dawn will rise over the gem studded sky.
The blackbird’s voice will rise over the sighs of the nightingale.

And hope will be rekindled.
Lulling the pace of change.

Into a song.
Into a call.
Into a sigh.






			

	


				
					


	

		
All must change
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ Leave a comment					

				

		

05/04/21

When the nights are torn apart,

With whirling winds,
With worrisome words,
With weary whispery.

I toss and turn,

My hair like the ocean,
My arms like the tempest,
My head like the galaxies.

Is there a rhythm in my restlessness?
Is there fear in my restlessness?
Is there hope in my restlessness?

Change,
All must change.

Yesterday’s old house
Tomorrow’s complex.

Yesterday’s apple tree,
Tomorrow’s flats.

Yesterday’s childhood,
Tomorrow’s old age.

How can it be?

Ten years ago?
Twenty years ago?
Thirty years ago?

Dear Lord,
How can it be?

If I’m growing like a withered oak tree,
What about them?

I see tiredness where there was a spring.
I see confusion where there was sharpness.
I see exhaustion where there was patience.

There is no respite,

from the whirling of the galaxies,
from the cycling of the seasons,
from the momentum of the years.

On and on,
Until no more.

Unless I turn my face to the One.

And I remember,

What my mind cannot remember.
What my heart cannot remember.
What only my soul can remember.

That lone ship who survived,

Through death,
Through destruction,
Through destitution,

To the dawn…

By the Grace of Our Creator,
By the Mercy of Our Creator,
By the Love of Our Creator.

The distant stars glimmering,
The loud waves crashing,
The quiet soul longing.

And my heart stops racing.
And my thoughts stop pacing.
And my soul stops crashing.

All those stories,
All those songs,
All those sighs, 

Tell the same tale.

The world may crash and burn.
The world may change and spin.
The world may vanish and return.

Rootless,
Anchor-less 
Borderless 

We sail on.

On wings of twinkling stars, 
On wings of frothy waves,
On wings of steadfast faith.

There is no fear in the horizon.

Only,
Infinite Peace.

Only,
Eternal Light.

Only,
Timeless Presence.

How small a human life is,
for the hungry heart of a galaxy.

How vast a human body is,
for the nucleus of a cell.

How intricate a human destiny is,
for the ever abiding Angels.

And the morning comes,

With a chorus of twitterings,
With a ruffle of wings,
With a soft whisper.

The nightingale stops for a bite.
The robin drops in for a visit.
The sparrows never linger for long.

How familiar are their ways…

Like the return of the spring,
Like the return of the morning,
Like the return of his wooing. 

Change,
All must change.

Except the truth that remains true.
Except for the past that remains passed.
Except for Our Creator who remains the One who created

Us.
You.
Me.

Change,
Let it all change.

Change,
Let me change.

Change,
Let yourself change.

Our essence,
Our soul,
Our love,

are safe in His Hands.












			

	


				
					


	

		
02/12/20
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ Leave a comment					

				

		

The room is warm behind me
The window is cold in front of me.





But I don’t look away.





The magpies in their cocktail dresses.
The great tits in their matching smokings.
The robin with her pinafore and a bleeding heart.





And beyond them, the woods.
And beyond them, the roads,
And beyond them, the streets.





Never-ending streets





That brought me here.
That lead me nowhere.
That took them away.





Watched some of them go,
Cheered some as they went,
Missed some who fled away.





I drink my coffee from your forgotten mug,
I wrap myself in the shawl you made for me,
I write in the notebook you gifted me.





I remember the voices.
I remember the jokes.
I remember the tears.





It’s not a goodbye,
It’s not an ending,
It’s not a last page.





There’s a long way to the sea.





Maybe tomorrow,
Maybe next year,
Maybe in fifty years,





We’ll laugh again.
We’ll hope again.
We’ll remember again.





Sisters,
Friends,
Fellow human beings.





I hope you remember the warmth.
I hope you remember the dreams.
I hope you remember the prayers.





That we shared.
That we shall share forever.





In distant echoes,
In loud memories,
In gentle smiles.





I will carry you with me.
I will weave you over me.
I will keep you in my words.





Until then,





I listen to the wind whispering to the trees.
I breathe in the rich scents of autumn.
I watch the birds chatter, leave and return.





And when it’s too cold,





I crawl to my hearth,
I huddle under the eiderdown.
I warm my heart with words.





Stories,
Song,
Sighs





of what is sure to come.





My own flight.
My own knight.
My own heights.





Dear sisters,





One day,
It will be my turn.





And he will be kind.
And he will be gentle.
And he will be true.





… With him, I will also find





Contentment.
Felicity.
Joy.





And a hand in mine.
And a face against mine.
And a breath mingling with mine.





Our very own path through the woods…





To wherever our hearts take us to.
To wherever our prayers take us to.
To wherever our Lord take us to.





Home.






			

	


				
					


	

		
18/11/20
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ 3 Comments					

				

		

Perhaps the birds come human watching





Flickering
Tweeting
Worrying





Beyond the windows.





And on the boughs,
And on the low trees,
And on the freshly sown field.





Watching,
Witnessing,
Whispering.





Here she goes,
on her purple bike.





Here he goes,
on with his sturdy boots.





Winter or summer
Spring or autumn
They go each in their own way.





Chating,
Shopping,
Roaming.





Deeply rooted,
Firmly planted,
Kindly watered.





Here to last.





Hello there,
See you tomorrow.





And they always end up,
face to face.





And they always end up,
hand in hand,





And they always end up,
coffee to coffee.





Winter or summer
Spring or autumn
They watch the years go by.





Time to downsize.
Time to live it up.
Time to start again.





Time and time,
Unravelling
Travelling





Fast
Slow
Fast





and there….





He’s gone.





No more leaves to rack up.
No more dreams to wake up.
No more coffees to drink up.





Boisterous
Bold
Bright.





Eternal optimist.





Never believed in defeat.
Never believed in endings.
Never believed in superstitions.





Friday the 13th?





Just another date.
Just another day.
Just a last day.





And it’s over.





A wave,
A smile,
A hello…





They were there,
the day before all cafés closed.





She will be alone,
the day after all cafés will open.





He will be gone,
the days after all cafés will open





In a blink.





How small,
How silent,
How tender





Is one life.
Is one month.
Is one love.





Years and years,
of the same street.





Years and years,
of the same crowd.





Years and years,
of the same old table.





And down the road,
And across the gate,
And behind the garden,





A flutter
A lament,
A chirp,





On the oak trees bordering the cemetery.





Another winter day is over,
Another winter day is awaiting.





On and on,
Until spring.





A white feather,
A green acorn,
A crimson peak.





And that golden sunset,
And that golden goodbye,
And that golden foliage,





A promise?
A promise.

			

	


				
					


	

		
16/10/20
	

			

			
		

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ Leave a comment					

				

		

To understand the meaning of a trail of feathers
To glimpse the knowledge of the falling leaves
To read the temperament of a cloudy sky





In the secret of a brave kernel.
In the litany of a lost owl
In the cracked tree trunk





There is an undecipherable knowledge.





A knowledge heavier than these books
A knowledge more precious than a diploma
A knowledge older than your crumbling walls.





I thread gently





Through the wind beaten forest
Through the time carven valley
Through the water thirsty river bed.





Wordless stories
Numberless ages
Outlawed paths.





They try, oh they do try,
Don’t they?





To write theories
To memorize forrmulas.
To define laws.





Fragile hands,
Tired minds
Failing eyes,





Tarnishing plastic
Blurring fumes
Cypher tumors.





What do they truly know?





Of depthless abysses?
Of timeless galaxies?
Of endless species?





Cross out that word
Rewrite that paragraph
Reframe this theory.





Words,
Numbers,
Pixels.





Dust in the wind,
Tinsels in the wind
Radiation in the wind.





Drink deep that knowledge,





Until you canot breathe.
Until you cannot see.
Until you cannot think.





What of the feather at your feet?
What of the scent on your lips?
But what of the judd in your fingernail?





Did you listen?
Can you still hear?





The warning…





In bacteria who survived in the melting ice.
In the water who remembers those interglacial heights.
In the dried out bark that faces bravely the bitter winds.





Every night,
The owls wonders why.





Every morn,
The pink dawn wonders how.





Every eventide,
The vine wonders when.





It will come,
it must.





Come and go.
Leave and return.
End and start.





The turn of the tide.
The end of an age.
The beginning of the cycle.





On and on





The swirling orbs





Small and immense
Slow and fast,
Cold and hot;





Tell us of the never-ending dance.





The spiraling destinies,
The encircling doom.
The rotating pathways.





Up and up,
Down and down –





Yet,





you remain enamored of your plastic dreams.
you remain enclasped in your toxic adventures
you remain enclosed in your poisoned walls.





Never knowing
Never caring
Never living.





Dead before the end of the stories.
Dead before the beginning of the chapter.
Dead before the climax of this tale.





Come,
Take my hand.





Come,
Hear our song,





Come,
Feel your earth.





Earth,





Where all stories begin
Where all songs end,
Where all destinies remember.





Earth,





Plant your feet deeply,
Anchor your fingers deeply,
Breathe deeply.





And remember,
And awaken,
And be free…





Like the chittering sparrows
Like the twirling leaves
Like the twinkling daisies.





Frail
Ephemeral,
And forever free…

			

	


				
					


	

		
23/06/20
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ Leave a comment					

				

		

Some girls are like the wind.
Some girls are like the streams.
Some girls are like the soil.


Wispy,
Ever flowing,
Wholly rich.


Too kind,
Too gentle,
Too accommodating.


Flip through the magazines,
Scroll through the feed.
Watch every scene character :


Don’t be a doormat.
Don’t be shy.
Don’t be understanding.


Be tough.
Be hard.
Be you.


Clench your jaw.
Paint your lips.
Lift your chin.


You’re a soldier.
You’re a warrior,
you’re a game changer…


Should you?
They want you to.


Can you?
They want you to.


Will you?
They want you to.


But there’s a bird in your chest.
But there’s a feather in your eyelash.
But there’s a butterfly in your hair.


And there’s this little girl…


Who just wanted to have a friend.
Who just wanted to have her safe place.
Who just wanted to have her say.


But who was tormented for her


Gentleness
Kindness
Otherworld-ness 


She’s looking at you…


Will you hurt me too?
Will you betray me too?
Will you scorn me too?


Turn it off.


The mesmerizing  screens.
The endless noise.
The glaring images. 


Tune in yourself.


Breath,
Beat
Be.


Soft,
Kind,
Gentle.


It’s a relief
Like a summer rain.


It’s a refuge,
Like the winter sun.


It’s a solace,
Like the autumn glow.


The little girl can go and play.
The young woman can go and dance.
The gentle woman can go and live.


Twirl
and twirl like a leaf.


Swirl,
and swirl  like a feather.


Whirl,
and whirl like the ocean. 


Never laking current,
Never lacking waves,
Never lacking depth


But gently finishing my course 


Caressing,
Cherishing,
Lavishing


The sands.
The cliffs,
The crags.


With love.


And through,


Ages
Centuries,
Days,


Polishing their souks.
Softening their hearts.
Smoothing their bruises.


They will never cover me in metal.
They will never file me with rot.
They will never dip me into ciment.


There is no hardness here.
But there’s strength.


There is no bitterness here,
But there’s wisdom.


There is no ruthlessness here,
But there is mercy.


And freedom,
Oh so much freedom.


Free at last…


To run through the woods,
To fly over the mountains,
To glide over the sea.


To be kind.
To be loving.
To be forgiving.


Soft
Light
And serene.






			

	


				
					


	

		
31/03/20
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ 1 Comment					

				

		

How can the world be ending 

When the birds are chirping?
When the daisies are blooming?
When the cherry tree is blossoming?

On my screens 

Death.
Flicker, flicker.
Panic.
Flicker, flicker.
Hail. 

Nothing will ever be the same;

They write
Over and over again.
They predict
Over and over again.
They decree.
Over and over again. 

Yet,

The crescent moon ripens 
The winter turns into spring
The night turns into day.

Pale sunsets
Blushing sunrises.
From the dawn of time until now.

Death,
Birth,
Death,
Birth.

And the full moon withers.
And the new moon regenerates. 

Did you hear?
The yellow tit has returned.

Like every year, 
He burrows in the lilacs.

Like every year,
He cocks his head for crumbs.

Like every year,
He thrills at the other birds .

Take a turn,
In the blooming garden.

Take a turn,
In the awakening woods.

Take a turn,
In the serenity of the wild.

Far, far away,
From those rolls of toilet paper.

Far, far away,
From those constant updates.

Far far away,
From the mass hysteria.

Hearken, oh hearken my friend!
Feel, oh feel my friend!
Open up, oh open up my friend!

To these golden doors,
To these wandering paths.
To these pink and white glades.

Yesterday it was dark and murky.
Yesterday it was grey and dusty.
Yesterday, it was cold and misty.

In the beaming sunshine,
In the melodic afternoon,
In the fragrant serenity 

You can breathe.
You can hope.
You can understand 

That some things will always be true.

The season will turn.
The days will trickle.

Life will out.

In the winter woods,
You saw life in death.

In the early spring,
You saw death in life.

A dance that you know well.
A story that you understand well.
A reality that you glimpse well.

The mushrooms of yesterday,
The buds of tomorrow.

The pebbles in the ocean of your soul.
The snowdrops in the garden of your heart.
The feathers on the birds of your dreams.

Will you fly?
Or will you attach yourself to these shackles, 

The flicker,
The trickle,
The endless scrolling.

That blue light that burns your brain;
That constant roar that burns your mind;
That constant scream that burns your ears;

Shackling you to your fears.

Will you fly, my friend?

To the lonely summit.
To the silent forest.
To the cascading steam.

Bubbling,
Frothing,
Gurgling,

With life.

Will you fly, then?









			

	


				
					


	

		
10/11/19
	

				

			 ~ Layla			 ~ Leave a comment					

				

		




Sami Yusuf – A Dancing Heart
Music to accompany this poem





 Creature of the woods,
 Creature of the wilds,
 Creature of the winds…
 
 Never of this city.
 
 Blinding lights,
 Deafening voices,
 Intoxicating fumes. 
 
 I crawl back to my
 
 Hovel
 Cabin
 Tower.
 
 Nestled in the trees.
 
 Aspens.
 Oaks.
 Maples. 
 
 Why must I leave my peace?
 Why must I?
 
 You must,
 You shall,
 You will, my child.
 
 They call,
 They always call…
 
 Through the highways, 
 Through the valleys,
 Through the seas, 
 
 They wake me up at night.
 
 Child,
 You must come.
 
 Child,
 You must run.
 
 Child,
 You must return.
 
 And I look the other way.
 
 Shivering,
 Trembling,
 Twitching,
 
 There will be no rest,
 Until I answer
 
 This call
 This beseech  
 This summon. 
 
 Too young,
 Too soon,
 Too fragile.
 
 I cannot.
 
 But my heart never rests.
 
 And my face becomes finer.
 And my eyes become deeper.
 And my hair becomes lighter.
 
 Time cannot ever be hindered. 
 
 Am I standing still, am I moving?
 
 Dancing
 Twirling
 Balancing 
 
 Between two world.
 Between two direction.
 Between two paths.
 
 How high is the tightrope!
 How high is the horizon!
 How high is the summit!
 
 The river runs in the glen.
 The daisies grow in the hollow.
 The children play in the dale.
 
 But I belong far away from
 
 Their gushing.
 Their dancing.
 Their singing.
 
 I wish I could climb down to them.
 I wish I could run to them.
 I wish I could stay with them.
 
 Find smooth pebbles in the river.
 Make luscious flower crowns,
 Hold their small hands in mine.
 
 I look at them.
 I wave at them.
 I call to them.
 
 They never notice me.
 
 There’s an invisible veil between us.
 Theres’s an invisible net between us.
 There’s an invisible barrier between us.
 
 Like the one that separates
 
 Living from the dead,
 Light from the shadows.
 Freshwater from saltwater.
 
 Invisible.
 Subtle.
 Unshakable. 
 
 Yet,
 We must all flow.
 
 Yet,
 We must all fly.
 
 Yet,
 We must all feel….
 
 The call beneath our ribs.
 The call beneath our heart.
 The call beneath our fingertips. 
 
 Can you hear it too?
 Can you?
 
 Or am I a madwoman…
 
 Frenzied.
 Frantic.
 Free.
 
 Ever wandering.
 Ever solitary,
 Ever thirsty,
 
 Scattering behind me
 
 Petals of what could have been,
 Hums of what could perhaps be.
 Feathers of what could never be.
 
 Unless…
 
 And I look away from the vale,
 And I look to my own feet.
 And I look up to the sky.
 
 Unless…
 
 Do you ever hear echoes of prayers,
 Do you ever hear tatters of laments,
 Do you ever hear hopeful hymns,
 
 Up there in the lonely mountains?
 
 Voices of those 
 Who journey.
 
 Voices of those,
 Who leave.
 
 Voices of those,
 Who must return.
 
 To the Unknowable.
 To the Unseeable.
 To the Ungraspable.
 
 To the ever Familiar. 
 To the ever Compassionate. 
 To the ever Loving.
 
 And the voices…
 
 Of those who sing in your blood.
 Of those who whisper in your dreams.
 Of those who are heard in your own words. 
 
 To a distant land.
 To an ancient time.
 To another idiom.
 
 You can almost see it…
 
 The scorching desert.
 The freezing summits.
 The haunting ruins.
 
 Towers embroidered of
 
 Gold
 Turquoise
 And blue.
 
 You can feel them under your fingertips.
 You can feel them against your palms.
 You can feel them against your cheek.
 
 Like a scent that never leaves you…
 
 Musk
 Frankincense 
 And roses.
 
 And the chants,
 And the oud 
 And the sitar.
 
 Like a melody that lulls you
 
 In,
 Out,
 and In,
 
 Of a sleep carved with dreams.
 
 A maddening labyrinthe 
 
 Curls,
 Leaps
 and fire out.
 
 Burning,
 Like a memory.
 
 Burning,
 Like a desire.
 
 Burning,
 Like a thirst.
 
 Something you cannot have imagined.
 Something you cannot translate in words.
 Something you cannot explain with reason.
 
 So you lie awake.
 
 Wordlessly,
 Hopelessly,
 Mindlessly,
 
 Listening.
 
 Even in this peaceful forest,
 Even in this gentle country lane,
 Even in this blissful night,
 
 Every breeze that breathes,
 Every twig that creaks, 
 Every bird that leaps,
 
 Echo those voices….
 
 Calling you,
 Beseeching you,
 Summoning you,
 
 To the journey.