Neghena Hamidi, a young, new, literary-artist, has graced my blogpage, with a very endearing poem, about the ill-effects of a pathological homelife-experience. The piece itself is very captivating, describing, in detail, how someone may, and sadly, often, ends up, as a result of negativity in their lives, from home.
I walked past both of you upon being beckoned
My parents said to me “Don’t think this life is worthy for a split second”
Careless I was,
Walking to my room
Disrespecting my parents?
I just walked into my own doom
I did not know would happen that night
A dream that would leave be shattered
Unprepared to really fight
Lying in my bed
Forgetting about the prayers my dad just led
I closed my eyes and drifted away
In a habitat
Where was I
What just begun
I heard cries all over just being sung
It was dark
I couldn’t see
Is what I’m imagining make believe?
I moved my left hand
What is this box i am in?
is it the box that He chose?
Knock and I banged. No one heard me
I can’t really see
Someone please answer
Hear my plea
Because I feel as though my heart is beginning to bleed
The ceiling began to slide
I caught a glimpse of my mama,
Crying on my side
White dress on my body
On this box i lied
I saw four people hovering on my home tugging on my scarf
“Wake up. You did not die, Her life was about to start”
Who was that?
Wait I’m dead?
That was my mother..
The one I never listened to when we uttered words to one another
“My baby sister, shes gone”
I think that was my brother
Never really bothered knowing you because I always snuck out undercover
“Guys…I’m not dead. Hear me. I’m dying inside”
Ha! Cracked a paradox
While I’m unwillingly trapped in this box
Don’t bury me six feet down the ground where the worms will have my fun with their feast
On the eyes that never bothered to see life’s true peak
The ears that never listened to her own just merely speak
The mouth that was blabbering when her enemies were so weak
That forehead that never gracefully leveled down to the atmosphere of my feet
The hands that was useless when I heard someone beg
And the feet that never ran to mosque when I heard Quran being read
Not now. I need to change
I know its a bit too late
Like a thread this life was cut short
I feel so estranged
Water on my face?
Those were the tears of my father
Thought you would be tough
Please don’t leave your daughter
Someone pull me up
This must be a dream
Caused by bad habits?
And a hint of really bad fatigue?
I assure you I was sober
Just pull me up
My life just has been shattered by a bulldozer
My face was just covered
There goes my family
And the new roof of my sanctuary
My box is lifted despite my plea
Down I go with regrets and lack of the deen.