the writing has taken a lull in the past few weeks. Despite the many changes, the events (both inner and those happening in the world) that have tugged at my insides, the words have been hesitant in coming forward, checking out early every morning almost as if to miss me on purpose. reminds me of this poem by Charles Bukowski ..

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don’t do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don’t do it.
if you have to sit for hours
staring at your computer screen
or hunched over your
typewriter
searching for words,
don’t do it.

and so I haven’t, until now.

today marks the end of Ramadan, a month in which I have been conscious of every step I’ve taken, whether it has been forwards or back. navigating myself through the maze of reconciliation between my faith and my reality. Looking back at the past few months, my life, in all of its flurried glory, has taken turns I had not expected. My heart (which let’s be honest, was in rough shape) has been broken and reset and mended, gradually settling and growing new skin, taking the time to convalesce under the care of an unlikely love.

I try hard to not look forward anymore, despite the natural function of my brain that needs advance planning and certainty in order to maintain some semblance of calm. I often wonder when that calm will come to stay, no longer a visitor. the moment when things will fall into place after all these long years of learning, of falling down and getting back up, scraped knees and healing skin. to witness the growth of a love with its awkward beginnings, contrasts that sit still and serene against summer sunsets.

I had never known the depths of my own heart until now.

**

Image: The Great Wave by Katsushika Hokusai