This Sandstorm

All I can hear is the thudding of my own heart and my endless thoughts screaming for attention. I am alone. Nothing surrounds me but the heat that the sun fiercely glares down on me, like a royal cloak draping across the land. My eyes squint as the light reflects off from the golden sand forcing them to close with each step that I take. My lungs beg to breathe as the heated air burns down my throat, providing no comfort to my restricted air supply. My tongue is so dry that words have dried before their escape. A warm breeze begins to walk across the dust, teasing them to move. This heat wave exists in my isolated mind as I stand in real disbelief at my reality. As I stand and witness the carelessness of human nature and my inability to stop the critique of myself, the sandy storm sifts. It stirs.

My arms are outstretched, protectively guarding my face and eyes as the wind speed increases its knots. As the words roll off from their untamed tongues, I wait to see if they stop in their ignorance to reflect, to apologise, to re-build. It doesn’t happen. Their words are arid and their eyes only express drought toward another’s pain and discomfort. My eyes inspect them from head-to-toe, trying to figure out what genetically sets us apart. It has to be genetic, right? How can it not be? Politeness, social etiquette, taking responsibility, common sense that we all have to act grown up, at one stage or another, this is what we are taught in our homes and in our schools. So, genetics of the mind has to be wired differently, right? My mind seeks for answers. This voice shouts now, expressing their red anger. The wind is furious and forcibly sweeps the dirt into the air.

Saltation has begun; the dust in the air has been taken against its will to another location. I’m standing in the center of this sandy storm as the wind hollers out its eery cry. My eyes squint as the golden dust plunges into the air, like a rocket’s engine starting up and punishing the surrounding air particles as it blasts into the sky. My dark veil tries to cling on as I trudge forward to safety but it unwillingly flies away. I turn to grab it but instead I watch a trail of a black memory hurrying away. The voice gets louder as they express that nothing is their responsibility, that some of us need to do more than others and that is what is fair, whilst others do less. The humid air slithers into my ears as I struggle to reason with this voice. The wind’s velocity peaks and pushes me back. Further and further back.

In my human weakness, I drop to the ground executing the remaining dirt particles into the vicious air. In my curled position, my mind fetches every defeated moment, every deceiving individual’s face and every moment that I could have done better in reaction to the fore. Displaying these robbed moments of happiness stirs the storm. My heart wants to explode as the hot air tries to push me back in my conquered state. The voice retreats as my outer silence refuses to grant them satisfaction. My eyes remain determined as I realize that I have more than one choice. Depending on which one I selectively choose, it will direct the outcome. So, I chose kind confrontation. I chose to stand firm whilst others try to manipulate me with their shadowy lies. I chose to attempt, even in the smallest minute way, to be better.

This sandy storm breathes out; the particles now become acquainted with their new destination. I’m covered in noble dust to remind me of the storm which came to pass. The sand lays on my face and hands like a second-skin. My heart beats with emotion and tears trace down my dry cheeks. My eyes search for comfort in a nearby existence, but all it finds are layers of imperial sand, greeting my feet with warmth. I am alone in this calming Sandstorm. All I can hear is the thudding of my own heart and my endless thoughts seeking to be understood. This challenging journey is my own. People, events, time and sandy storms will come to pass. When the dust settles, I’ll look back and marvel at the indentations created by the decisions of my steps. I will realize that I can weather any storm, God-willing. 

Our Wings

The date was set. Our aluminium wings were set to fly and we needed to prepare for take-off. We methodically gathered our treasured belongings and neatly packed it into our trusty travel bags. Looking at our organized heaps of clothing, we wondered what deserved to go with and what deserved to stay behind. Our hearts felt heavy like bricks were weighing them down. Leaving meant leaving our families behind, it meant missing out on never-to-be-repeated moments. Jetting off to somewhere new has limitless possibilities- golden good or blackish bad. One would just have to rise and fall with these ups and downs and remember to accelerate through the bumpy turbulence.

Why do we leave? Why do we sacrifice those precious one-snap photo moments? We leave in search of exploring the world from a bird’s eye view, to see how the land layers itself across the mountains and deserts; to see how the ocean demands its presence as it powerfully sits like a King across the distance. We leave to witness different cultures and religions and how those people perceive the mysteries of the world. We left to grow our gold so that we can plan for a better future which includes us in these exclusives so that we can be home for as long as the Almighty grants.

When we arrived on distant dirt, we thought that zero expectations meant no disappointments, right? Wrong. Even without any expectations, humans have this subconscious way of encoding things in their busy brains which ultimately have dozens of expectations. With expectations, it can either come with a sigh of elation or frustration.  This air pocket in the travel plan seems depressively out of place. Nothing seems as it should be, the way it was promised on one’s home’s soil. Accelerating as we built momentum, our wings were shaky and our seat belt was firmly in place.

Communicating through sound waves via trusty Skype allows relief from foreign troubles. This only occurs through soft love and support and less harsh instruction and sarcasm. These sound waves and videos allow us to soar between clouds; it allows us to fly freely and be ourselves high above sea level. We’ll share our moments of energized excitement, rusty stress and gloomy sadness. Don’t worry, our wings will always naturally climb, always move with the force of the wind, we will always find our way to our desired destination, God-willing.

The seat belt sign is illuminated for now as we are passing through troubling wind speeds. Our carbon fiber wings move steadily right and then…left. The powerful engines beneath our wings force out the pressure to propel us forward. After a while a silky voice says that strong winds are behind us and we can admire the fluffy clouds outside the small glasses. The glorious sun is about to shyly open its eyes. Our white wings prepare to land, it prepares to slow down and take a deep breath in to bring us to a gradual stop. The sun yawns as it stretches its rays across the awesome sky and we begin our new adventure. Our titanium wings have been pushed and they have been weathered through the changing sky. Our engines are checked on the gravel ground and we are ready for take-off, we are ready to persevere through the turbulence.

 

Broken... for now.

Tell them to try to kindly understand. Whisper it or say it out loud. I’m bruised for now. We all have those moments where something hurts and stains our hearts, we all know too well that the stains take longer to wash away than the event itself. The stain will come out with regular washing but let me deal with the process of the wash. Tell them to understand that it’s my prerogative as to how long or how short of the minutes and hours I use to tick away my pain. Tell them to understand that my heart is as strong as a flower keeping itself sturdy through the pouring rain. Just like that flower, I will blossom and shine in the sun again.

They tell me: “It will be okay”. But have they lived through what I have? How would they know what I feel? Do they look into their mystifying round glasses to see the dreams and fears I hug so tightly to my heart? These are questions that no one can answer for another. So why do they judge me and those before me? What would they have done if they were in those situations? They are probably too proud to see through their lion’s mane at others struggling on their dusty path. If their hearts’ strings have never pulled to the exciting happiness and defeating sadness that I have, then why judge me?

Try to understand that my lost hopes and dreams will not be forever buried; it is just beneath the sandy surface. My flower’s roots will persevere through the dry dirt and revive itself through the pouring rain. My red heart stings for now. Kindly do not advise me about the healing process because yours and mine are strictly unique. Sympathize with my heartbreaking experience but do not at any time feel that you have the right to tell me how to feel. Do not compare one tragedy with another; you will be making a murky mistake.

The pieces of my puzzle are scattered for now but I will place them back together again. When we look at one another, we need to understand that sometimes we don’t understand. We don’t have a certain clue about what another has dealt with and why they dealt with it in they in which they have. The Almighty has placed an obstacle course on earth in which only the toughest survive. My obstacle course has been trying but I’m prepared to battle it out until the end to the best of my awesome ability. 

Who are “they” may you ask? “They” are those judging individuals who do not pause to see their parents’, children’s, siblings’, families’ or friends’ black tears. “They” think that they could have done it better. Whatever the circumstance of “it” may be. “They” are those individuals that take my heartache and make it about “them”. My tears have streamed so heavily before my eyes, blurring my vision so that I can’t see my hands before me. So ask yourself: Why do you make it about you?

Tell them from me that I thank them from the bottom of my fractured heart for their silent support. Please let them know that from my well-built fort I’ve concealed myself here to remain intact. It allows me to force myself to keep believing that I’ll always be “tough enough”. Tell them to understand that some prefer ruthless thoughtless words as empathy to let them put their foot on the petrol of their lives. Some prefer many to envelope them and seal them off from their own thoughts whilst they swim in a sea of others’ opinions as a means for their inescapable escape whilst some prefer the motivational speech which speaks to their overwhelming sorrow.

Kindly let them know that the well-needed wash is in progress. I’m shattered for now; my life’s collage has been broken… for now. Like the slow drip-drip of raindrops in an old cup, I will regain the strength I’ve momentarily lost. With an extra amount of special Vanish my emotional scars will disappear with time but never will the stain be forgotten. Let them know I’ll rise again as tall as a mountain and I’ll bathe in the shiny sun as my flower undergoes its majestic metamorphosis and truly unfolds.