Clouds of compassion

It was when I first held my new born baby, when I felt a stinging ache in my heart and my tears dropped on my breast as I fed him.

The ache was inflicted by a sudden enormous feeling of compassion towards my mother who, someday years ago, held me the same way and brought me close to her heart and fed me for the first time.

On that day my love for my mother multiplied a thousand times…I wanted to hold her, kiss her hands forever and thank her for loving me that much.

That much…as I loved those tiny fingers and those closed tiny eyes and that hungry little mouth reaching out to the unknown, instinctively, wanted to survive…wanting to be fed.

The compassion towards my mom made me forget any conflict I ever had with her…any suffering I ever had in my life…any pain I ever went through…All I felt was overwhelming strong storms of love towards her.

It was when I first held my new born baby, when I realized for the first time in my life the real meaning and function of having the physicality of a woman.

I realized that all the past recognition of my femininity was a fraction of the real reason behind that creation…That I wasn’t given something that looks nice in outfits and flatters my posture or has the function of pleasing a spouse; I was given a meaning to life…a way…a reason…the function.

When my baby held on to me, closed his eyes peacefully and starting filling himself with life…directly fom my life…i felt like my soul was floating…i closed my eyes and thanked god he made me realize the blessing of the bond between me and my new born…and the bond between my creation and him.

And it was days after I first held my new born baby, when my mom disclosed the fact that she found a lump in her breast.

The breast that I had started to realize its meaning…the source of life…the outside of the chest heart…

 She was scared yet acting strong and collected, I panicked and was anything but collected…as I shivered, I started to call people I know for a doctor recommendation, and after getting a number or two my mom surprised me that she didn’t want to go to the doctor.

She thought she should wait for another few weeks because she wanted to take care of me and my new born baby…and again, she was being the woman who held her first new born in her hands…and again the multiplied love and compassion towards her ached and ached… my tears couldn’t be stopped and I begged her ” Mama, you just have to go and go now…this is your life…you are my life and you have to be fine…always…I need you to be fine more than anything in this whole world…I care for you more than anything and anyone, even the baby…I love you more than anything and anyone even the baby…please…we will go together to the doctor…we will!!”

She laughed as I hardly made sense as my shaky voice and many tears sank the sentences deep in my sore throat…

she laughed because she thought I was exaggerating when I said I love her more than anything and anyone even the baby…but it was the truth…she is the life and the love manifested in a person.

We visited the doctor and my mom was examined and asked to do some tests and a mammogram.

I went with her every step of the way…I saw the cold two steel poles pressing against her breast trying to detect what’s in it…and I held her hand afterwards and prayed more than I ever prayed, that nothing horrible would turn out.

The doctor again examined the test results and advised that an operation should be done to get a specimen of the lump as the mammogram alone failed to prevail the nature of the lump.

Fear accompanied me all the way…every minute of waiting for a result to show and every minute of waiting for the surgery to take place.

My sweet beautiful tiny-figured mom had the operation, the specimen was taken and examined…And the report was long…I couldn’t wait to go to the doctor with it, I had to read it…first paragraph identified a grayish substance forming a lump in the left breast. As I read this sentence I couldn’t see more words as I pictured a grayish monster trying to take my mom away from me…I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes out of their tears and continued reading the second paragraph…examination proved that the grayish substance is in the mild stage and it was removed completely and no further hazard could be detected.

I jumped up and down and kissed every reachable kissable part of my mother and thanked god faithfully and sincerely for saving “my life”

Yet, I had to hear it from the doctor…The doctor congratulated my mom for seeking medical help on the very early stage and before the lump turned into the malignant monster I pictured.

The doctor advised my mom to lead a healthy life, take care of her nutrition and take it easy…

 Later that night I kissed my mom goodnight, held my new born baby close to my heart and wished for him to love me one fraction of the love I feel towards my mother.

She mentioned the grayish substance again and I pictured a grayish heavy cloud that hovered above us, made is run chaotically like the lost, ache deeply with pain from fear, rained and showered us…then disappeared.

Don’t take your health lightly…cherish life…and treasure those who love you.

I don’t know why i wrote this down…just a gut feeling.


تتكشف لك حقائق..قد تكون هامشية غير مؤثرة

..وقد تكون عميقة غائرة..

المهم..التَكَشُفات تفضح زغللة او تفضح إعتياد أو تفضح التخفى

تكشفت لى حقيقة ان النطاعة داء المُستغل الضعيف والذى الغاية عنده سبيلها كيّ الكرامة

تكشفت لى حقيقة انه لا يمكن ابدا ابدا تحقيق وعد بالاصلاح من شخص يفتقر مرادفات الكلمة ومعانيها

تكشفت لى حقيقة اننى لا أصفح أبداً عن مؤذٍ متعدٍ إستمرأ حبى..فالصفح الذى يستتبعه ان اهبه أرض جديدة ليبورها ويعطشها ويسىء اليها مجدداً..لا اعرفه

فقط أعرف المغفرة..وأنا لست فى محل الواهب..حاشا لله…انا أصدق فى تمنى أن تخرج من روحى بصدق..وأحتفل إن خرجت بصدق…واتمنى ان يهبنى اياها ربى

فلنغفر للمسىء..ننساه ونمضى..نسبح ونؤمن بأن الخير سارٍ

إهانتى بطبيعتى

فى الأفلام الدرامية…دائماً ما يبدأ الرجل السافل المعتدى على إمرأة بمسكها من شعرها..شده..جرها منه..وتصرخ هى من الألم

فى الأفلام الكوميدية…عندما تفعل المرأة شيئاً يستحق التأنيب..وبمزح…يمسكها الرجل من شعرها..وتتأوه بضحك

فى الأفلام المرعبة..الواقعية..فى بلدنا..يمسك عسكرى الجيش المرأة من شعرها..اول شىء..ويشدها منه ويجرها منه..وهو يقربها اليه..ويذيقها وابل من الشتائم

قد يظن البعض ان المحجبة لا تُشد من شعرها…هراء!! يمسك الرجل المعتدى بايشاربها من الخلف ليجد ربطة شعرها فيشده..مع

الإيشارب..وهى تصرخ من الألم

تهان المرأة بشعرها أول شىء…وكأن الرجل المعتدى ، غريزياً يستخدم طبيعتها العادية فى إهانتها

وكذلك بالنسبة لجسدها…فجسد المرأة عورة شائت ام أبت…سواءً كانت متدينة ام لا…سواء كان هو متدين ام لا…الرجل المعتدى يهين المرأة بطبيعتها…هى لها ثدى وبطن لا تُعرى..عادة! ..فان اراد اهانتها..يعريها

وفى افلام الخيال العلمى..يهين الكائن المرأة فيكشف عن عذريتها!

ارى تلك الاهانات وتغلى انسانيتى في

تغلى بحرارة الرفض

بحرارة الغضب

بحرارة عنفوان الرغبة فى الإنتقام

واشعر باكثر احساس بالقهر يمكن ان اشعر به

انى اقهر بسبب طبيعتى


جعلونى عورة

ثم اهانونى بكشفى

واعلم واؤمن ان هذا ليس صنع دين

واعلم واؤمن ان هذا ليس من صنع الله

لن الوم الله ان جعلنى مختلفة


الله جعل الرجل مختلفاً عنى…الا انى سمحة..ذات روح غنية..عادلة..طيبة..مقدرة..كونية..انسانية…فالرجل المختلف عنى…جعلته حبيباً وابناً

ولم أُعَنوِن إختلافه كعورة..ولم احاول ابدا ابدا اهانته بطبيعته!

ولن أفعل ذلك انتقماً منه..انتقاماّ لما فعله بى طول الحياة…انتقاماً لان حولنى الى قطع من لحم ..تُثير او تُهان

جل ما افعله…ان ارجع طبيعتى الى طبيعتى…بداخلى اولاً…ثم بروح ابنى وابنتى…ثم ساراجع  كل البشر…فى ارواحهم …

وسيأتى يوم..لن يهان فيه بشر بطبيعته

بقايا ام وجود تام؟

ربما تحرير العينين من كُحله …طيُه بيدين من حرير…إسكانُه دفء خِزانة عزيزاً..هو أكثر أنواع الترك طُهراً…
وربما الإستمرار فى تقبيل ثنياته مع كل شهيق متهدج هو أطهر القُبلات على الاطلاق…
المهم..النقاب لم يعد غريباً…لم يعد مخيفاً…لم يعد مُقصياً…
فنحن من نصنع الأشباح..لإحتياجنا للخوف…
الخوف من طيه..او الخوف من تقبيله..
ففى الحالتان..تتكشف نفوسنا!ا

كانت ترتدى عباءة سوداء ..طويلة..ساترة..كثيفة..تخفى تحتها الوان زاهية..وأنوثة رائعة…

كانت ترتدى عباءة سوداء..مثل كثيرات..يرتدين العباءة..وربما النقابم..ثل نساء إتخذن العباءة ستراً عرفتهن فى حياتى..وكنت منهن..

ولطالما خاف الناس من السواد..من النقاب..من الإختلاف..صنعوا خوفهم فى أذهانهم…وعاشوا..وعشن

وإمتدت أيدى..لتضرب..وتكشف وتُعرى وتمتهن وتهين وتزدرى وتقتل شيئاً ما فى أذهانهم..وشيئاً ما فى أرواحهن…لكن

ما إنكشف حقاً ليس عورات ولا لحم ولا الوان مستترة..ما انكشف حقاً وتعرّى هو الجانى المَهين الضعيف المتخاذل المائع اللا إنسانى المُحطم المزدى وهو أحق أن يُزدرى

عجباً لمن تعرى فاستتر..وإن خلع فهو خلع خوفاً وهمياً فى أذهان الناس فبات رفيقاً يُحترم

وعجباً لمن عرّى ففضحه رجسه وفجره

وعجباً لما يحدث فى العقول من نقلات..تُعيِن على الأمخاخ أمراء فى يوم..وتقصيهم منفى الذكريات فى ثانية

وعجباً لما يمكن أن يفعله مقدار متراً من القماش…فقط عندما نسمح له

Good old blogging days, again!

Exactly one year ago we celebrated our blogging golden years..2006/2007.

We created, back then, a facebook group that has 82 members now 🙂

I and my friends from around the blogosphere blogged on that day to remember how it was when blogging was “it” and the community was familiar.

My dear friends from around Qwaider planet…from good old “Jeeran” from Jordan, Egypt, Precious Palestine, Lebanon and Syria are still in touch…we read for each other or communicate through facebook but blogging will always be so special and so near.

This year i won’t go all nostalgic…this year our world has changed…and the word NEW is not far any more…this year is about hopes that we believe will come true.

I hope blogging never fades to facebook, video blogging or anything else.

I hope writing online never be censored…i hope it keeps being the free skies we let go of our inhabitants in and just soar free.

I hope we witness successes, accomplishments and value all the way.

Thank you bloggers for reading, sharing and accepting.

Thank you for opening my eyes to a talent i never knew it existed that now I have two books on shelves…who would’ve thought! it’s surreal!

Thank you and I hope next year we still celebrate our good old blogging days 🙂


P.S. dear reader, you are welcomed to join the group (link above) and blog with us…you can post on your blog or in the notes area on the group.

A full perfect life

Someone once told me that i deserve a full perfect life.

Someone pictured that life to be…having my kids happy and having a husband who would love us all…who would cook dinner with me…laugh with me…take me in his arms and watch TV at night…a loving man who’d take care of me and who would be there for me always.

Someone…didn’t know that this picture perfect has to have one element…and that is true deep genuine love.

Someone…didn’t know that the man i would love would never give me that perfect picture.

Someone didn’t know…just didn’t know…that pictures aren’t supposed to be perfect…that love is not a picture…that “perfect” might not exist…

Someone didn’t know…that i want nothing at all…

Someone didn’t know that my hope is in my kids -now- having the very good life they deserve.

Till then…I’m perfectly fine watching TV with my kids…cooking for my kids…laughing with my kids…and being the father they deserve.

And the love of a man that would i melt in his arms and  who would cherish me in his heart…is like natural blond hair…i simply won’t have.



When darkness is seen as broad daylight

When harm is seen as sheer delight

When truths are only repeated lies

When myths reform into cries


Day dream all you want poor mind

you are alone, detained, collapsed yet can find,

sweet logic against a sort of madness, one of a kind

sweet reality…broken melody…echoes defined


you fall weak to your knees

can’t bear to stand, or run…you just freeze

can’t bring a stream to the scream to release

Ache and more ache pulse in ease


create a hurricane of words and tunes

swirling up to the seventh sky..forming dunes

lay onto the ground…magnify the ruins

sleep into the earth…restrain your doings


Madness will sink you down

Laughs will burn you up

Delusions will eat you alive

hurt will track your mind


for…nothing changes

crazy wishes can’t change them

million trials can’t bring them

crying and wallowing and giving can’t cure them


Madness is seeing the pit and choosing the fall

Madness is losing one bit what you know is whole

Madness is sewing the silkiness of a wall

Madness is you…loving…who can never be all

Madness is believing the lies and stall

Madness is forgiving sins and meeting run with crawl

Madness is giving big and never even taking small

Madness is desiring at night and by day appal

Madness is breaking airless rooms with a cry..a call

Madness is unpinning what you spent years to install

Madness is the GOOD you…out of control.

Home and beyond

All my life i dread airport..planes..goodbyes and travelling.

My father used to travel a lot and used to take me to the airport so he could see me till the very last-minute.

Those last minutes before the departure…my stomach would ache…i would experience anxiety too close to fear…deep sorrow…and agonizing loss…i would cry 30 minutes before he left and 30 minutes after he’s gone…

When i used to travel with him i used to feel exactly the same that i’m leaving my mother plus extra pain that i am such a “nadla” for leaving her alone.

I’ve been raised that loving parents don’t leave their kids and travel unless there’s a true emergency…I’ve been raised to enjoy other countries but always stay in love with my country…I used to feel home sick the minute i step foot in a plane heading to europe or else…I am emotional…I get attached…and the longest i spent away from my kids was two days. Not only because they need their mother…not only out of responsibility…but out of love…when you love someone you hate and dread leaving…with kids its more hurting…to leave the very precious part of yourself…the most precious in life…

Why am i writing about this? I am because i feel extreme home-sickness because there’s a trip i have to take very soon…because there’s a chance I might relocate to a foreign country…a chance that anyone would see an amazing opportunity yet i feel extreme resistance towards.

I love every damn thing about egypt…good or bad…I have always seen beauty in it and its beauty even glowed more as i grow older.

My kids will be with me every second…but i fear for their safety…I want them as egyptian as can be…I realized, now, after being around Egyptians who have willingly chosen to immigrate abroad and who have lived there for tens of years and who have absorbed their culture and “damm” that i don’t want this “bliss”.

I don’t want the better life and better streets and better houses…I don’t want the western sense and way of life…i don’t want them not because i desire nothing better…I’m just scared…scared of losing my home, thus, my self in any la la land…

It is kind of ironic…how people who spend years and power to defuse their entity and be western and how people would die to keep the Egyptian skin tighter and closer.

Fear…fear of change…fear of the biggest risk of all…pure fear!


الإيمان بالثورة وعيون الثوار

إنه تماماً مثل شرح حلاوة الإيمان لمشكك/رافض وجود واجد الإيمان…أن تحاول شرح الدافع وراء المخاطرة والجهاد والمثابرة والبذل من أجل تحقيق عدل وحرية ..ومحاولة إعاشة حق يكاد أن يختنق…من المستحيل الشرح او الوصول لقلب ملئه صدأ…إلا إن شاء الله..فتخر ساجداً وقلبه يملؤه الألم وتدعى…اللهم فهمنا الحق وزلل عقبات كل قلب آسن…ورقق إدراك مُسفهى دعاة الحرية…وكبّل إيدى المجرمين الطغاة

بالأمس واليوم تسائلت كثيراً من أين يأتى الآسنون بقسوة القلوب التى تمكنهم من التجريح فى الثورة والسخرية من الجرحى والقتلى…أهم جزءاً من طغيان فرد الأمن الذى يصوب بندقيته تجاه مصرى فقط ليمتثل لأمر أو ليحمى متجبر؟

فهم يرون الحق فى إستجداء الرحمة من داهسى الرقاب…ويرون الحرية فى إتباع صامت أعمى لأى فتات يُرمى الى شعب طليق…ويرون القمع تهذيب وإصلاح…فهم الخائفون من زوال بركة المال الحرام…وهم الخائفون من معنى لم يعهدوه…معنى أخذ الحرية…طعم الحرية…طعم الكرامة

وتذهب أعين المناضل وتتصفى عن آخرها…فيلقى بالضمادة ويسارع ليحمل عينه الأخرى قبساً من نور…نور لا يراه الكثيرون من ذوات الأعين الثاقبة…فبليل طويل ملئته الدموع…سهروا معنا هم ليصفعوا الدموع

وأرى بعينى وأسمع بأذنى المجرّحون…المهينون…الكافرون بالحق والعدل وهم يمزقون المعانى السامية ويمزقون آلام الجرحى ويمزقون جثث القتلى وكأن جراحهم وموتهم لا يكفى لشفاء غليلهم…غل العاجز المتواطىء…غل المجرم المعانق جلادين إجرامه…غل الخانع المتخاذل الجبان

وتتعاظم معاصى وتتضائل خيرات…ويسبح كل إنسان وسط أمواج تعين روحه

فذا الروح المُحلقة فى سماء الحق والعدل والحرية…يتعالى على الإزدراءات ولا يترك وجهته وهدفه…وذا الروح العطنة يغرق فى المآسن فيزيد مرارة وحنقاً ورفضاً لشمس ساطعة…شمس لن تبخل عليه بدفئها يوماً ما بعد أن ينتهى الصراع…فهو ما زال…ابن أرضها