~Forget Resignation~

The miracle of your arrival
Taking your path together
I cradle you till you are ready
To take your first fly on your own
Watching you blossom just beautifully
Then there you are a butterfly
Taking charge of your path
Flying your own destiny
As hard as I want to admit
These hands cannot cradle you for life
I keep watching you from far
To always be here for you
Whenever you miss the cradle of my heart
Your home within my embrace
And there is no resigning from my motherly job
As when you arrived here in my arms
That’s when I was assigned a mother’s job
Yet there is no room to choose another title
I accepted to keep this job for the rest of my life
Thank you for landing me this job
Know that I’m up to it
Gaining the skills on work
The development is to try it out
I’m up to it, a mother for a lifetime

Copyright 2012, Nasra Al Adawi

A Dreamer in Court

Untitled, a photo by hobbyphotos on Flickr.

For the first time, I’m actually seeing a real court room. It was always in American movies that I have seen a court room with a judge and lawyers. Now, here I am, I’m the topic of discussion and argument. The case is on me or I’m the case to be divorced or no to be divorced.

The funny part of it, after a year of separation, the title to be divorced or being married in separation does not bother me any more. Does not accelerate my anger anymore and I’m here standing, wanting to defy the room that I’m in, the court system and the legal system that seems to be so oblivious for someone who has a job as a dreamer as me.
The dreamer inside of me had enough of being restrained and chained. Yes, I want to break loose to dream once more. To write as many love poems as I can get the touch of inspiration and to that someone who is just an imaginary someone. As the dreamer in me, enjoys romantic poetry, for is it so beautiful. It is once upon romance time within entanglement of words and love and taking love, to be so happening as when we keep dreaming for a bit longer time. There will always be that kind of provoking feeling and splint of arousing touch carried forward through poetic words.

So here I am in this dry dreadful court room, defending for the right to be a dreamer again.