After the loss of my mother-in-law, my youngest daughter brought up the topic of starting to wear the hijab (a scarf that covers the hair, denoting our humbled nature towards God, and empowering our rights to protect our modesty in a world filled with immodesty). As a mother, who wanted to give my daughter a better chance at a larger pool of the ‘marriage mart’, my husband and I convinced her to wait. However, she brought up my inner need to wear the hijab myself and be a better practicing Muslim, because the hijab is a constant reminder of my connection to God. By wearing it, I’m reminded to always be grateful for what I have, not to envy what others do, work harder to achieve my desires within the dictates, rules and regulations given to Muslims through the Quoraan. I’ve also found that the acceptance I’ve received in this Western Country, Canada, was overwhelmingly positive and empowered me to stay the course of my beliefs. Now, I’m proud to say that my struggle to strengthen my belief is a daily occurrence, that I do my best not fall under its depressing weight. Struggling to unite people through the hijab is an uplifting experience, as one shares their experiences and problems, which in turn help others find solutions for their own set of issues.
My favorite comment when people meet me, is that I have a certain glow to my face that comes from the power of my faith.

Journey

Has it really been thirty years
since that first trip to the Bahamas?
Since I had to white-knuckle
turbulent skies and roiling seas?
Wasn’t I afraid to make such
a journey alone?

Did I expect my singlehood to be
satisfied by the billions of
stars in the night sky?
Or by that diamond tennis bracelet
I purchased, no longer in style?

Did I think my loneliness would
be relieved by my friend, Tom Clancy?
Or maybe by the stateroom upgrade I
was offered as a first-time cruiser?

Was it desperation that led to
sex with a stranger I picked up
among the pulsing and gyrating
of the disco?

I know it was courage.

Due date was in August of 1992, but her druggin’, smokin’ & Lord knows what else made me quickly exit the womb.
Three months early I made my debut. All odds stacked against me, in foster care, sick, having seizures. The doctors didn’t think I’d make it through.
Eventually I was adopted by a family who wrapped me in love. As I got older, they became poison, having me question the plans written up above.
God, why did you let me end up in a home with such abuse? Sure I’m the golden child; and, no one would ever see a bruise. Yet, the mental anguish, lies, and cutting words made me cry.
Over the years I starved myself and even cut my legs and thighs.
God are you sure this is your plan? Why didn’t you let me die when you had the chance? Eventually, I came to see I could stew in how I felt; or, I could take the harder path and make the most of the hand I have been dealt. So, finally I made a choice. To speak hope rather than just gripe with my voice.
In 2016, it got hotter by another degree. I majored in counseling psychology. I’ve seen many clients over the years. I’ve heard many stories and seen many tears. Some overcame, sadly some were found slain. Though my strength still waxes and wanes, being able to plant seeds to help others bloom, even on days when my inner sadness looms, I am reminded my struggle was not in vain

Dear, Unsealers:

The following poem is a flashback to November 2015…

In the early morning hours
I stepped off the plane in Madrid
After a long, turbulent flight across the Atlantic

As I see the window ahead of me
I’m on the other side, en el Aeropuerto Barajas
With daylight yet to break

It doesn’t look like I’m in Spain
But indeed I am!

All the waiting and anticipation led here
To these eight days, my first trip away from home
Madrid, Toledo, Granada, Sevila & Cordoba await

To think, this wouldn’t have happened
If I wasn’t told months earlier, “no”.

I didn’t know it then….
I would learn to love traveling solo, joining group trips

This was a celebration of turning thirty!

In this chapter of becoming me
My idea of who I want to be
Has evolved as a result of life
Experience in both love and strife
I find seldom is there black and white
Or simply wrong or completely right
But rather in this world of gray
We must live in our authentic way
Today I’m proud to say I’m queer
I’ll shout it out both far and near
Because in this chapter of becoming me
I’m exactly who I’m meant to be

I spent my adolescent years
immersed in ‘boyish’ play–
no Barbie dolls or dance premieres
to soften village frays.

Each night I’d fold my hands and pray
with mud-caked fingernails
for God to send a girl my way
to play act fairytales.

Alas! The years absorbed my wails
and dimmed my purest dream
while fate allowed a shift in scales
with daughters’ rosy gleams.

One winter day I witnessed screams
beside my gray-haired mom
and felt the wings of Seraphim
apply a healing balm

to bygone tears and white-pressed palms
of unremembered faith
with preemie eyes of panicked calm–
her entrance worth the wait.

My heart embraced her strung-out state
and set my blood ablaze,
though I could never kindle hate
when selflessness outweighed–

a mom agreed for mine to raise
one precious baby girl
and on that raw December day
my sister changed my world.

Addiction eased and pith unfurled,
revealing spunk and grace
and though adulthood duties surged,
I doted on her perfect face.

From pageants to a high school play,
I’m still her biggest fan
despite not sharing bedroom space
or crowded minivans.

I hope I’ve shown her that she can
rely on Sissy’s love
through any bind or muddled plan–
our bond surpasses blood.

Long long ago, I lay in bed
I felt like I’d be better off dead
I sat right down wondering why
The world would not just let me die
I spent my days thinking up reasons
To not be living through any seasons
Every time I opened my eyes
I felt like my faith was low not high

But one day I went though the change of my life
When I finally had lived through quite enough strife
I realized me living was the key to it all
I’d finally made an important call
A call to God to restore my sanity
Was all I needed to withstand humanity
A call to God gave me faith and hope
I no longer felt like hanging from a rope

Every day now I wish to live
I cannot know what each day will give
But any day that I am alive
Is better than being cut with so many knives
I never want myself to be dead
I’d rather be home eating some bread
The Lord is with me wherever I go
And I love living like you’ll never know

Remember days like this in frailer years
when silence swallows up your tired soul,
for time will fall away with wistful tears
to fill an echovision water hole.

Deep ripples push his childhood toward the shore,
revealing smiles, laughter, hugs, and trust
in intermittent flashes that restore
the endless ways he killed your wanderlust.

Unburdened by responsibility
and ripe with wisdom, patience, and aplomb,
your inhibitions sank and you were free
to be his guide, his friend, his place of calm.

Sweet memories were anchored to forever
each time you sang of baby sharks together.