I already lost most, but I don’t want to lose you. You have been circling me for many years to remind me of your presence. But I don’t even look at you in the dark times. Instead, I cried within myself on my mistakes and failures. Totally forget you exist there to comfort me.

This modern time surrounds me with its lights. I’ve been the prisoner of them, not anymore. I’ve seen the moonlight. You look-alike a white ball floating around to everyone but me. You are my soul.

I lived alone most of my time in childhood. And moon you are one of my best friends. Maybe the only one. Because those best friends are not with me now. You still accompany me.

Childhood days are crossing my mind as flashbacks like in the movies. I remember the days of playing hide-and-seek with you, moon. I was never afraid to walk alone on dark roads. You are always there. If I walk, you walk with me. If I run you run with me.

Yeah, someday you took days off. But still most of the time you are there for me. Our friendship is secret until now. Maybe It’s suited to call our friendship a secret affair.

I smirked when people talked about their long-distance relationship. It’s definitely not far compared to the distance between us.

You seduce the poets with your beauty. Moon, they use you as metaphors without asking your permission. I am not one of them. I ask for forgiveness.

I remember the story you told about the man who wants to own you by putting a flag on you. Don’t worry, it seems like their vision of colonizing you has changed. Now they are chasing Mars.

Children forget their imaginary friends when they grew up. It’s because those friends are imaginary. But not you moon. You are always there I can see you yet. These concrete jungles block our vision but not our friendship. Unless I lose the memory of you.

Memories are like brought-up birds. If you had a good understanding with them. They may fly away from you. But they will return at some time.You’ve returned moon. This time I took care of you. I’ll swear I don’t forget.

I wrote this letter as an apology and also as a reminder for myself. That I have someone to watch me always. It’s you moon.

No human can understand this friendship because it’s not human friendship. It’s something else better not to name it.

This Beatles’ song yesterday lyrics keep ringing in my ears

Suddenly I’m not half the man I used to be
There’s a shadow hangin over me

Paul McCartney

Fulfill my moon. Clears the shadow hanging over me with your amazing light. You are my strength. Maybe that’s why I am weak now. I want you again in my life. Would you accept me? Reply as soon as possible buddy. I don’t live as long as you.

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Beloved Autumn you are back again. I almost lose hope around the sweltering mid summer days when I ache for your cool embrace.

My eyes long see you dancing with the leaves in whips and whirls while little insect’s flurry into the crunchy bed of mulch to fill their belly’s ahead of winter’s clutch.

Your brisk chill morning melodies somehow uplift my heart as if I were greeting a dear old friend at my door. You feel so familiar and comforting showing up in your russet and saffron grandfatherly robes.

What lessons will you bring to my life this season? Will I finally be able to learn to live your wise ancient ways in this world of woes?

I hope we spend enough time together this year. I have been very occupied of late and would hate to wait another season or two to truly sit with your gifts.

I will take your hand this time, and not wait for you to claim mine. I will hear your song whispered through the sleepy earth and drink in the nostalgia you awaken, whether for times gone by or those lifetimes we have lived through together.

My heart needs to pour itself out to you, into you.

Welcome cherished, adored, awaited Autumn, sit awhile and share your soul with me.

Just have a close look at this girl,

Staring at every nook and corner

Of the ecstatic moments she used to live

That seems just like a past

That never left apart,

The kind of homes she made

Out of her little infinities,

When she could pour her heart out so easily

With no fear on her part,

When she could spend hours

Creating tremendous pieces of art,

When she could sit in silence

To hear the screaming cries of her heart,

When she could track the sun setting,

Leaving the slight orange tinge over horizon

And dragging her far from feeling blue

Just like the color of day as it starts,

When she could be all vulnerable

With her thoughts so sublime as are the stars…

But now, she had to grow out of her innocence

To become matured enough to put a mask

Of indifference to the fire of her soul

She tried to be someone else

Whom the world didn’t find queer

And who fitted well in the society’s square

But when she didn’t feel like herself anymore,

She became exhausted with always giving other more

While all of her expectations of what she deserved, gone

Only leaving behind the ashes of dissatisfaction

With anguish prevailing in the smoke

Until one day

She decided to rise above those very ashes

That she could only conquer after embracing

Both her desires and miseries

From now onwards

She is not going to collect the broken shards of her heart

Instead she will regrow her heart with passion

A heart that is softer with more love than before

Not only for others, but herself as well

A heart that is stronger and fearless of the thorns

That come up with the society’s fake stigmas all along

For she realized that thorns are the ones

That complete a rose

She is going to bloom now…!

amna rana

This writing is for every girl out there who grew out of her childish madness, teenage vulnerability towards exploring and expressing every human emotion without any fear of judgment, and suddenly became matured enough to be called a “Good Woman” that makes sense to the society.

Because unfortunately, her dreams, her passion, her desire to explore the universe, her inquisitive nature, her spending hours on creating art for nothing but peace of her mind, her giving herself “Me-time”…. didn’t make sense to the society…!

Well, I totally understand and nurture the same belief in my heart that just like any man, a girl has to carry every responsibility, which is bound with every stage of her life whether being a daughter, a sister, a wife or a mother and that’s what a true woman manages to do so elegantly despite a plethora of difficulties. But what we all forget is that a daughter, a sister, a wife, and a mother_ all are a human first and besides owing a list of obligations and responsibilities towards these relationships, she does owe herself adequate time, self-love, care, dedication along with responsibilities regarding the fulfillment of her ambitions, and her passion that her soul rekindle in her heart. She does owe herself contentment that comes from owning her unfiltered physical and emotional self irrespective of social stigma and fake standards that we, as a community, have developed unfortunately. Sometimes, our harmless passion, our honest desires and pursuing of our dreams become unacceptable thorns for society that they want to cut off while keeping only the soft rosy petals, but they forget that those very thorns make a rose complete.

Dearest Restroom Cleaning Attendant

I watched you today as you mopped the floor in the public restroom, cleaning up after our business. You were singing a tune, though I didn’t understand the words, it sounded like a tune of praise.

You had your gloves on and your mask, your hair was styled with beautiful intricate braids. When you looked up to wring the soiled water from the stringy fibres, your eyes were still bright, though tired.

Many came and went – going about their secret business behind those closed cubicle doors. One lady impatiently huffed a little that you seemed to be in her way and took a little too long as you finished cleaning the cubicle she wanted. Others who came in two by two carried on their catty conversations, trampling over the damp sparkling floor that you had just a moment ago wiped clean.  

Did I just hear you sigh? Did your eyes just cast a little spell their way – to get them to notice your presence, your activity – to spark some kind of consideration in their hearts.

Who cleans their toilet bowls at home I wonder to myself? I can almost hear her wondering these words too.

I also wonder how long it takes you to make your way home in the evenings? Do you immediately change & rinse the odours from your uniform? Do you have to immediately boil the water to start the children’s dinner? Is there some more cleaning, mopping, sweeping to be done? Are there elderly parents, moody husbands or partners waiting for your attention?

Does anyone know that you are so valuable and valued in this world, no matter what work you are doing!

Back in the restroom, I hear you pick up the tune you were singing, seemingly unperturbed, carrying on with your thankless, invisible deeds.

Before I walk out, I thank you, send you God’s blessings and see you so clearly.

As I try to contain in my screams, I stare at the vast sky. It’s so sad. It’s blue.

I’ve been trying to call you, I’ve been trying to communicate what goes on inside me while I try to comprehend what’s happening around me. My heart wretches as I wake up every morning not knowing how I will get through the day but when I look around, the numbness prevails.

Do you not see the sufferings going on, do you not see how humanity is dying out, do you not see how the people on this planet are grieving?

Why do some have to face tough battles, fight for bread and butter, yet more pain is inflicted upon them?

Why do some put others through vile hardships, play with others’ lives, yet get away with everything?

They say justice will be served. They say the one who is watching is fair and that everyone will get what they deserve. But I’m tired. I’m tired of the constant agony this world is serving to its habitants. I’m tired of watching the humankind suffer. I’m tired of watching everyone trying to survive.

To the one who sees everything and everyone, but is unseen:

Would there come a day the people will actually get to live and not mere fight for their survival?

Would there come a day when I will wake up and hear about mother Earth healing and suffering coming to a halt?

I yearn for a day like that as I cling to hope, but when enduring pain gets unbearable, when this heart cries of grief and when the eyes bleed of sorrow, who do we turn to, dear God?


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To know about global issues and human rights, visit: https://www.un.org/en/sections/issues-depth/human-rights/

Dear Unseen Human Being

I saw you walking again today, while I was driving in my car. Not a terribly fancy car – it gets me from A to B. I don’t think I take it for granted. But then again, I have always had a car. And I wonder if you used to have one too? Did you also moan about the traffic and the idiots on the road? Or has it always been this way for you?

Were you birthed into a different world, where the nooks and crannies of abandoned buildings were your home? While I was taken to ballet and swimming lessons and had a guaranteed meal and loving arms of protection around me every day.

Where are you walking to? With your dusty crushed sandals, tattered shirt and sharp eyes. Yes, I glimpsed into them for a moment. It was so swift and startling the utter sadness and emptiness I saw. Or were those my feelings? 

Feelings of embarrassment at a life that is no better than your own.

Are you actually headed somewhere secret and more purposeful than I can imagine?

I will see you again, I am sure. And I will learn to look at you with no awkwardness or pity.

Until then I always bless and prayer for the Unseen, they surely need it, and know a secret I have yet to learn.

Yours Sincerely,

Nadine Rosin.