dusty wings

In your friendships/relationships, I think it’s important to ask the other person how they like to be comforted. Much like the love languages, everyone responds differently to certain actions during times of stress. Some may like advice or words of affirmation while others may need a hug or someone to just nod and listen. Asking them how they want to be comforted shows that you care about them and want them to feel acknowledged when they’re upset.

Arabic: olive trees swaying in the wind; a grandmother ticks at her hand painted prayer beads; the bloodied martyr; an intimate, warm orange; a shepherd stretched out in the shade; between buildings, lovers steal a glance; an embroidered robe; minarets touch the sky; bare feet on scorching sand. 

Urdu: rain glistening on a lonely street, the eyes of a hurt dog, the smell of warm wood and old cherished books; the velvety touch of rose petals, kulfi in your mouth, heavy silver at your wrists; open windows, a room lit by moonlight; handing your father a glass of tea, caressing your lover’s neck, hearing your name included in your loved one’s morning prayer.

Bangla: the scent of earth wet by rain; the green watery rice fields; the rumbling dark rain clouds; the cold wind blowing on my wet skin; singeing through my wet clothes; the vast mighty rivers; the smell of chamomile flowers; the cotton sarees; the smell of old books; creeking old Mahogany furniture; my mother’s comforting hand caressing me.

Sindhi: a lion’s roar heard from miles away; ripples of water surmounted by the hot summer rain; the sound of bangles clanking together; a grandparent’s sigh of contentment; a slice of watermelon generously sprinkled with masala; fresh milk delivered from the cattle, warmed on the stove; the smell of henna and perfume and incense.

Polish: the whispers of falling leaves; the tale of bloodied fingers and bitten lips; not begging for freedom/ fighting for it; the scent of gasoline; burning in [me]; being reborn after another fire / ashes that created holy empire; world that is torn in half/ but it’s ours/ another spring has come / another spirit that didn’t die

there are three kinds of people: sun, moon and stars.

okay but waking up in the middle of the night to soft rain and knowing you’ve still got hours to sleep, when you’re toasty warm and comfortable & sleep has made you forget all your worries and responsibilities and u go back to sleep feeling as content as ever