Category: poem

KINTSUGI WARRIOR

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Photo By: IrishAlexandrian Photo Edit: Wessam Zaki

I have been through many battles, Non of which have been on fields, Non against a nation, Or an army.

I have fought against scores of individuals, Along with the invisible enemy, Called emotions, Armorless and weaponless.

I faced them head on, I stood my ground, I took more blows than I gave, I. Still. Got. Back. Up.

Each and everyday, Exhausted, Depleted, I. Did. Not. Retreat.

The injuries I endured, Did not bleed, They were not wounds, That cut skin and flesh.

They aren’t the kind, That can be seen, Nor treated with medicine, Gauze or dressing.

My endurance, My stubborn strength, My determination, The fire that burns deep within,

Through every turn, Through every incident, Through every storm, Made me victorious.

I have no medals, To show my valor, But I wear my scars, With pride and honor.

I have been bent, I have been broken, More times, Than I can count.

Cracked, Shattered, Chipped, Scratched

I put myself together, Piece by piece, With glue, gold dust, And time.

Kintsugi Warrior, Am I.

Old Summer Flame

We met through mutual friends,

In the height of summer.

His name was not one to be forgotten,

I could tell he was like no other.

Tall, Tanned and handsome,

wild curly hair tucked under a cap.

An infectious heart warming smile,

Magestic, like the Nile.

His manner, calm, courteous,

Gentle and kind.

A gentleman,

A very rare find.

I couldn’t help but be drawn,

He captivated me with his gaze.

I’d have gladly gaped,

For days, upon days.

Akh! Ya Mammee! (A popular expression in Arabic)

Ses Yeux! (His eyes, in French)

Ya Kharabi! (A popular phrase in Arabic, which means ‘My destruction in Arabic’)

So expressive and twinkly, I couldn’t help but go balmy.

My heart would jive,

To an unheard beat.

My chest on fire,

With tingly heat.

Stood by his side,

I couldn’t help but soon.

His affections for me,

Could have launched me to the moon.

Summer ended, just as fast as it had started

The weather cooled.

He went away and departed.

I felt such a fool.

Not a word,

Not a whisper,

Not even….

A good bye.

He immigrated,

He left me.

Stunned and shocked,

I bottled it all up inside.

The years passed,

Many a men, I met,

But non of them compared,

to that summer gent.

Old Summer Flame,

Preserved in my mind.

Memories of him,

Would surface from time to time.

I speculated,

I wondered,

What had become of him?

Did he ever think of me, as I did him?