By – Suleiman Murkthar
I am my pain, the hurts and the troubles that I have come endure. My sufferings, my smiles and hurt. I am more than my reflection, more than what I see when the shadow creeps to hide in the darkest of the night. When the monsters of yesterdays sets into the sun to steal away my light, I am the strength of ten men who fights them off, I am the praise and worships in my prayers, I am the sand that scars my knee when I am in his presence, I am the humility in the words that I use when I ask his forgiveness his blessings and mercy, I am the air of honesty in that moment I breath.
I am my tears, I am the sweet saltiness of engulfing taste that creeps down my cheeks, the tears that arouses from when I am hurt or when I am happy, I am the wailing in the cries and the cracks in the laughs, the punch line of the jokes and the sob of the stories, I am the feeling. I am the sound of the slap when the one I call home becomes physical, I am the thrust and the force of the blow, I am the rage, the smiles thats true, the smiles that are false, I am the lies that are told, the sweetness in the kiss, the promise of eternal bliss and the falsehood in their words.
I am the gait in the walks, the sauntering sways of a womans hips, and the knocking sound from the heels of a shoe, I am the road that it leads, the bumps and hurdles. I am the echoes in the emptiness, the shoulders high and pride and ego. I am my humility, the mistaken simplicity for subservience, the calmness in my words or anger in them.
I am my rain, I am the flashes of the lightening, the rumble of the thunder, I am the anger of the heavens, and the smile of the sun, when the dark clouds crawl I am the piercing rays of hope that borrows through its pores. I am meek sounds of a baby cry, the innocence in its laugh, I am the humanity that reeks from his eyes, the story of a thousand years that is yet to come, the villain he may become or the savior in him that dwells.
I am my story, I am the cracks in my skin, and the scars and breaks that time mends. I am the story of each crack, the pressure of life that lives in there. I am my sad stories, the nights that I lay awake and the nights I sleep as though baby, I am the book and the pen, the ink and my sweat. I am my struggles and achievements, my aim and goals. When life seems to have been torn apart, I am my way to the light, I am the truth in my confessions and stories untold, I am the truth in my deceits and hovering realizations. I am my yesterdays and tomorrows.
I am a work of art, I am the shape of time and morals and lessons, I am the scars on my skin, the scars that makes me the masterpiece that I am. So, my skins arent stained, my skin is only a book written in words only time could understand.