Lost but never found

  “To want is to be okay with the ache of the wait” - Mouna. Be wary they say, it sneaks in like carbon monoxide poisoning By the time you reckon that something is wrong          It would already be too late they say This mystical feeling, the right that would fix all wrongs This emotion that’s deadlier than anything you’ve ever known This viper I am meant to hold close to my chest and kiss with crimson lips How do I spot it in these dark seas? How can I tell if it’s there for me? If it’s coming for me? How does one recognise love when it’s shrouded in pain? How do I teach the body not to fear it? Regular love is never enough they say it’s not real love, not like the one you’ll find at the end of this poem at the end of this swipe, this coffee chat, this song, this one last talking stage, this blind date with a boy that stares too long at your cleavage This one accountant who lectures you about feminism, The one who wants your servitude Real ...

 Boy; has it been an eventful start to 24, I mean truly eventful. Last year; I had a huge health scare and the thing about falling sick so bad and fast is that it puts things into perspective with such quickness it would make your head spin.  Once I returned from my prolonged sick leave, I was ready to conquer the world, starting with putting an effort into enjoying my time in Dublin and not living a proverbial double life, Mouna in Dublin and Mouna in Hargeisa. I was going to make more friends, chase an overdue promotion at work, invest into a better wardrobe (I have an amazing wardrobe, am just a shopaholic), join a book club or two and finally see about that free gym in my building.  But alas! Kismet swings one way while I dance the other way. On the 10th of February, at 5 fucking AM, I received an email letting me know so clinically that I have been laid off, a better term for YOU ARE FIRED HAHAHAHH. I went right back to sleep after praying fajr because whatever that ...

In a small corner in my mother's heart a crack will appear that I am ending another year yet single. Ever since my sister's wedding and subsequent marriage, the people have become relentless. The questions at odd with their slightly demented expressions, "When are you getting married?", "Are you seeing anyone?", "You're not getting any younger you know", "The earlier you have kids the better you'll recover", and my favorite one so far, "You should say yes to the young gentlemen I know are vying for your attention". And the crowd goes................disappointed. My plight is not really with the people foaming at the mouth at the idea of my prospecting, after all I do know they mean well, my plight is with my solitude. Nothing beats just how good it feels to be alone but not lonely. A lot of people assume, just because I do not have a husband and a brood of children to fuss over and complain half-heartedly about I must be...

"Time heals" is a myth and an ultimate truth and that is the paradox that has me up late into the night, when I prod at old wounds and they don't really ache like they used to before. Crazy isn't it when I have begged and pleaded for things to change and now within the peace I feel sort of empty, like a cavern after the party is over and everyone has left to go home and you are left back to clean alone.  I once had a conversation with someone who knows me well enough to know the tears flowing down my face were just a defence mechanism, (people lash out when cornered, I bawl ) but I digress, anyways this person pointed an accusatory finger at me and said you feel too much. It was the BIGGEST accusation, you feel too much, so much, where do you place all the feelings, all these emotions that explode out of you in strange, disconcerting bursts??? And I remember thinking I don't? Do I? Because up until then no one had ever said anything like that to me, ever. I have b...

*Slight Spoilers* I cried at the end of this book, and I am on anti-depressants. In the span of 3 days it took me finish this masterpiece (no blame to the author, I have adhd and the attention span of a 24 month old) I laughed, sighed and my heart burned for the characters of Charlie Lastra and Nora Stephens. Where do I even begin, the excellent pacing of the plot, the beginning of our characters, the development, the twists (more like slight road bumps) and the heartache, the heartache and that splendid ending. Nora reminds me of myself a little too much, growing up fast and learning that control and destiny are both fickle motherfuckers (sorry Mom) and not being able grapple with that. But unlike our beloved Nora, I am neither this super badass at her job or ride a peloton- my idea of exercise is walking to the front door to pick up my Uber eats and walking back to my bed- but I digress, but the compartmentalisation , the inability to see failure for what it is ( a small hiccup ...

  What do you know of heartbreak the mirror asks; I know love I say, I have had many loves, lived through 4 One I left standing on a pier Another drowning in on themselves Another on the edge of a cliff And the last one crawling on a razor thin knife. Some I left scattered across realms, left unmoving, undying, still.   Others I turned away, reeled them through time, scared out of their wits. I know love I say The way I know red lipstick is not for me And that boat rides make me sick And how I can’t handle the scent of rosemary It’s just not meant for me. It’s incredibly inconvenient to me, to love. So pass.   I asked about heartbreak. What?? Heartbreak Muna, what do you know about heartbreak? Oh that? Yes, that.   It’s like coming home. No matter how far I wander away, and run with my shoes tucked close to my chest, no matter how desperately I bargain with the heavens oh please let me go home, let me hold on to my dignity, despite all of the fleeing and egregious n...