Atonement
December 4, 2008
I am wearing black on my white skin,
I opened my eyes to see everything dim
I pointed my fingers to see,
Any mirrors in front of me
Any mirrors for finding the real picture of the real me
Asking myself ..
Why I dressed black ?!
Why I’m blind ?!
What sins I did,
To be punished like this and cursed ?!
My arms , my hands are lying idle
My breaths are barely escaping my heavily weighted chest
Lacking In sense I am
For I’m millions of dreams had failed,
Millions of tears had burst
Ohh My Namless fears .. My countless tears
I shed Countless bitter tears that leave burn holes in the ground
And prevented me every night from sleeping safe and sound
Why do I feel as I’m the devil ?
Why I treated as I’m the only sinner ?
A flower was never meant to survive
I lost my petals
I lost my love, My only one
And my father is not here Anymore
He is staying away from me
There ,
In the Cemetery
And I’m standing here all alone on a garden clouded by shadows
Gazing in my hourglass whose sand ran,
And my life suddenly came to a halt.
Listening to unrehearsed song,
From some sad tired gulls.
And tasting the last bitterness of life
For I took all the pain before
And I was ready to take more,
But I run out of time.
I wish that flame whose burnt my heart from the start
had burnt me to Ashes
But I stayed to let the fire consuming me slowly,
Then renewing me again by the sweetest lies,
By the sweetest illusions
To atone for my sins.
Now I finally found that I can neither feel pleasure nor pain
For I became a grave having No visitors
So, Life for me now is a fake addiction I must quit
So I quit
My creator .. My Merciful .. My Allah
Take this failing heart
Take this broken soul
But not before
Atonement.

December 4, 2008 at 10:50 pm
Absolutly brilliant…Well said and i could see where you standing,i’m totally into it.
December 5, 2008 at 2:56 pm
great,, honey
keep it up
May 5, 2009 at 5:33 am
a flower’s beauty never dies…
July 6, 2009 at 12:19 pm
Dear Sawsan, why is your poem so dark and gloomy? Poetry is a reflection of soul as literature is the mirror of society. Yes, I know; though poetry is a protected shelter from our sorrows and fears, its pillars are also based on the sadness and lamentations of our life.
I wish I could have a chance to delve into the source of inspiration that has triggered these sound and flowery poems out of your heart.
May Allah keep your heart in sound bliss and happiness.