It took two years of counselling, with a trauma specialist, and a further two-and-a-half years of mediation, six years, all told, of separation, for me to finally start to let go. It hasn’t been easy; I cope by not thinking about it where possible; it has occupied enough of my time and heart and intruded upon me long enough.

When it does encroach upon me, every now and then, I make dua and endeavour to re-center myself, in the moment. Allahu alam what the future holds… I never thought I would be here and who knows in six more years where any of us will be. This day, this breath as it leaves my body and my Iman are all that I have; I let that anchor me. Alhamdulillah.

Sometimes I’m shut off and I all but forget and sometimes I suddenly remember and my blood runs cold and I catch my breath. The knowledge that I will never see him again brings both panic and relief… not always in equal measure. As my daughter lies tossing and turning in the cot-bed she’s fast out-growing I sit in the fading light fighting the urge to dwell on the thoughts of him that writing has stirred.  Continue reading

Should have known

I loved him even though I should have known better.
I should have known because he told me from the outset.
Told me he was damaged beyond repair.
He laughed about it.

I should have known because the writing was on the wall that he pinned me against.
I should have known.
I should be able to let go.

But I lie here with our daughter’s small warm feet nestled against my own
and my head fit to implode
at his remembrance
and the magnitude of the warped reality
that my mind can’t quite hold

27.04.2016

I dreamed of you and when I dreamed of you you circled me, as you always do
You were there but absent, your presence present, as it always is…
Your scent and your shape…
In the corner of my field of vision, as you always are

And you chased me down… hot pursuit, relentless… like you always did…
Slipping away, retreating somewhere I can’t follow, as you always have

And I tried to reach you but you were gone, had to say I loved you but you’d passed on, couldn’t breathe without you and I couldn’t scream…
Eight weeks straight of crying

It was just a dream.

My breath comes fast and shallow; your image on the screen,
Standing in a valley dressed in khaki green,
Preaching noble conquest but it’s just obscene

It was just a dream

Need to tell you I love you, need to just come clean
Tell you I forgive you… for what it means,
Still long to hold you for all that it would mean,
Still scared to know you,
Still scared to show you my heart’s beating

It was just a dream

Haven

My feet have tread this shore so many times
Pebble crunch and damp sand
The scent of the sea
The ebb and flow creeps and retreats
And my soul keeps the rhythm of the waves
In the comfort of the dark that envelops me

My son is the light in the window
And it’s emanating glow
He’s the lighthouse beacon that cuts through the night
Now… and now… and now…
He is moonlight and moonlight on water
Illuminating my way back home
Seems he’s been here with me forever
His doe-eyes have seen more than he shows Continue reading

Who I am…

‘Who I am’ used to be fixed and delineated clearly; this was not just simply in my ‘mind’ but in my being and in my very certain sense-of-self. This ‘self’ was not a fluid entity, it did not ebb and flow and it was non-negotiable. I was centred and anchored, if always yearning for something out of sight and reach and comprehension. Life has tested what I thought I knew about myself; the complexity and the ‘black and white’, and has left me floundering to understand where I fit in this universal state of ‘being’; which parts are ‘genuinely’ me and how in fact to ‘be’. There are times my head swims; when it seems I have no ‘core’ no ‘central being’ and that I might be washed away or drown. This leaves me almost constantly uneasy and is torturous at times. The longing for clarity, stability and tranquility of ‘mind’ won’t be denied and often sends me spiraling into a vertigo-inducing state. Trying to be the person you think you ought to be can be counterproductive but hard to move away from. Just as you think you’re making progress a glimpse of ‘self’ will flit by the eye-of-your-mind derailing you, reminding you there’s somebody already there and that you are grasping at straws.  Continue reading