Poetry Importing Service

She wears her traumas like war paint. Wipes her tears before they even have a chance to roll off of her cheeks but sometimes the circumstances make it too difficult to gulp back her tears, she's a human afterall. She makes beauty out of sorrows like it's a piece of art. She keeps herself a bit hidden and her walls a bit high. She has a soft heart and a pure soul. She has healed herself more times than you can ever imagine. She often questions her worth and asks herself "what thing worthy of love can be found in me?". Her sadness sometimes is like an eternal flow of water. She's constantly tormented by her heart and mind.

She loves the fact that no matter what happens, she still remains sensitive and full of love, that no one can ever take the softness away from her. She carries grief like a warrior and cries over losing a pen. Her tears escape frantically over very silly things, for her heart has been burdened from all the times she wanted to cry but couldn't. Nobody comes to her mind when asked 'who cares?' so she stayed sobbing under a table when she found no one who cares. She carried pain on her shoulders, and her heart only became softer. She was beautifully out of place. Her eyes carried grief like an art of unspoken love. She smiles despite all the pain her heart carries.

I think it's time for her to stop bringing flowers to the grave of the teenager she used to be. It's time for her to treat herself with softness and gentleness when things are hard to bear. I want her to know that being soft and kind is her superpower and not her weakness.

“Perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood.”

And frosted leaves that wither cold

Beauty in its extreme forms life

And nature’s graces firmly hold

Just as sunshine builds and blesses

So do hail and rain and sand storms

Falter one wills at times and falls -

Every season will be wild and tame

As no two souls are such the same

So does a breath breathe deeper

faster or warmer or colder another

Crying doesn’t make you weak,

Listening to yourself doesn’t make you selfish,

Loving yourself doesn’t make you a narcissist,

Laughing your heart out doesn’t make you look weird,

Singing along to songs while walking doesn’t make you look like a hippie,

Cutting out the wrong people from your life shouldn’t make you feel deserted,

Doing what you feel is right isn’t making the wrong decision,

Burning bridges that connect you to places you want to forget isn’t called being detached,

Sharing your feelings doesn’t make you vulnerable,

Being you doesn’t mean anything to anyone but means more to you,

If you do something for yourself,

It is for yourself,

No explanations are needed to be given.

When you write hijabi, know that you are not just representing yourself, you are representing Aalimas, Hafizas, Mu'alimmas , you are representing the great warrior women that represented Islam in the hardest of times, amongst the worst of crowds, you are representing Ummah-tul-mou'mineen , you are representing Mother Mary (may Allah be pleased with them all), you are representing every single woman that lived and died symbolising modesty.

Understand the value of the term hijabi it’s a label only the most dignified modest women are entitled to. Your wardrobe has more depth to it than making it a mere fashion statement. It’s a cloth representing honour. It’s a clothing that belongs to honoured women.

You represent me, you represent yourself, you represent us, you represent the women before you and the girls that are to come after all of us. Living upto the standards of haya as a hijabi is not a mere necessity, it’s a responsibility.”