Aisha

Yet knowing it will not come

Somewhere in everyone's minds should be that mother in Gaza who wiped her child's blood with her hijab and put it back on soon after

Somewhere in everyone's minds should be the starving family in Gaza who is forced to eat sand to survive

When will humanity become humane? When will the homeland not be stolen anymore? When will the world wake up and realize how many innocent people have died as a result of the war. The children and the mothers and the brothers and the fathers who have fought to keep each other alive?

Mahmoud darwish once wrote," I do not know who sold the homeland but I know who paid the price."

I hate what I see and see what I hate

I pick at my skin and pry at my bones

I can't seem to love what God had to create

There's something about me that tears at my heart

Like broken heart syndrome and adrenaline

Something that I can't seem to name

Something that reminds me how I look again

I can't find a solution to the pain in my bones

So I try to make up for it with my looks

I've tried the weight loss magazines

And I've even tried the "perfect" books

There's something about me I can't seem to love

Something that God had to have made faulty

Because I never seem to like myself like others

I've become my lifes worst casualty

The mirror has become my worst enemy

I hate what I see and see what I hate

People love aisha the way that she is

But i find myself faulty in all of my traits

The mirror has become my worst enemy

And my heart has been bandaged because of it too many times

I wish I could find peace with the mirror

But any liking of myself feels like the worst crime

To be honest I'm tired of the meds. I'm tired of the treatment. I've told my doctor the anxiety has gotten better but the scabs on my face and head beg otherwise. I've told the therapist the burdens on my shoulders have lightened but the ache in my feet and knees still hasn't gone away.

To be honest it's tiring being sick all the time. Having to know this Is how it is for you. This is the final remainder of life for you and it will never change. There is no cure for this sickness inside my mind. Only treatment to cope. Eternally I will be like this. I will have to watch my children grow into this as well. Determining their fate the moment they are born. That is saying that i am able to birth a child.

To be honest the world feels so heavy again. My breathes are getting shorter and I'm losing my mind a little more each day. Being back in my home town has once again started to eat me alive. I am rotting from the inside out and there is no medicine that can fix that.

In all honesty the ache in my bones is getting harder and harder to deal with. I carry the Dead child of my past self inside my heart and she cries when she remembers this place. She weeps for hours on end till I can barely feel my own heartbeat anymore.

My mother

My sister

Or my husband

I don't trust love like I don't trust happiness.

They never stay; they never pick you up when you fall or give you a heads up when your about to drown. Nothing begs less of my trust than love.

It's a lonely dying thing with weights like an anchor. It holds you down and drowns you without you even knowing it.

I don't trust love and it's lies of lust any more than I trust a train coming at me on its own tracks.

Love has doors of lies and rooms of lust

Where it cheats and begs for forgiveness while putting a knife into your back.

I think im having a miscarriage.

Inside i was screaming at the top of my lungs, Bursting out of my vocal cords but Nothing seemed to be coming out.

Excuse me ma'am. why are you here? I need to sign you in. My throat was caught in barb wire as I said it over and over again.

I-I think im having a miscarriage.

The world was black and blue And bruised and so flawed that night. It was test after test after hours and hours Of waiting and bleeding on to the Hospital floor all for a piece of paper.

"How to treat a miscarriage."

Continuous hours passed by with blood Staining my shorts, my legs, and my heart. The IV was removed and I was Left to go with my piece of paper. I picked up the shattered pieces of my Heart laying across the white hospital sheets. Gathered my bloody clothes and left. Home felt like an empty place. The bed became my casket once again as I lie there on my sore back. The world was black and blue And bruised and so flawed that night. It Almost felt like i wasnt a woman. I was an object. Left to be treated By a sheet of paper and a rotting blanket.