I’ll buy you Paper from Texas, A Heart from New Orleans, You’re Looking for Something that’s NOT in YOUR Life

You wrote a poem, a master piece, that you probably have been trying to get out for weeks and months. You finally let it out, for a moment their you felt something, you took for relief, but as time went by you knew that it was just momentary satisfaction, like a mother that have just given birth to her child.

Her wounds shall ache for a long time after her baby is out in the world, but her baby comforts her. Makes her feel that it was all worth while. That it is all said and done, and she has a baby out of it. Since writing is the closest thing men ever come to child labour, you comforted yourself telling yourself over and over again, that it was all said and done, and that you got “Er7aly” out of it.

The moment someone scratched the surface, told you he felt something even remotely similar to what you used to feel and still do feel. It all came back to you. Which kind of says that it never did go away from the start.

Writing immortalizes what we feel, what we’re going through. It doesn’t make it go away. It just makes it immortal.

That’s why they keep telling people don’t fall in a love dilemma with any kind of artist, because ART is immortal. And if you left a mark, you’ll be included in a piece of art. So leave a good mark on an artist, will you? Thing is the people who really get us seldom leave a good mark, mostly they tear us apart. They leave us to pick up the pieces after their mess, a mess of our heart.

You wanted love, you let go. You trusted and expected to get trusted back. But you didn’t and you came to know that baby not everyone is as beautiful as you.

You thought poetry and your gift will help you make it through and it does, will, and do. Just not like this. You need to feel everything the pain, the love, disappointment, desperation, then write it all down for time to see. Feel everything you write, cry on your keyboard. This is how poetry will get you through.

I just don’t feel you’re over her just yet. It’s not over till the last tear have been shed not till the last word has been written.

Write and Cry and Love Again Eventually.

I’ve seen it before, and baby you’re gonna make it on through…

A Sorry to my Heart and A Wish to the Moon

I live to write, and all I want and can write about now is YOU. I used to think and still do, that I lived for and to love. But now all I can bring myself to write about is how I want you. The thing is I don’t hate me for doing that!

I just wish, I wish you could see how the rebel in me has partnered with my love for you and hope that one day you’ll be mine. I wish you could see that all I can write about, all I want to write about, all I wish for, and all I desire is YOU.

But you don’t and you won’t any time SOON. So I continue to write and dream about and for you.

For writing comes from dreams you know, from dreams of the soul. Guess all my soul dreams of is YOU.

So baby I’ll just add this post to many more, in that folder hidden away. So many posts all about you, all about you. It’s like I’m infected with your love. But that will be the sweetest, most beautiful virus ever. Love of any kind is but Darling this love is yours, so it’s extra lovely, extra sweet, and I’m extra lonely tonight.

For when the night grows quite and it’s near it’s end, your memory floats to the surface of my thoughts and hopes. I used to let those out on paper but since I became sick with your love. All that comes out on paper is YOU.

Usually near the end I make a little prayer, logic says I pray for your love to let me be free, but my heart forces me to pray, that prayer I have been praying for for so long. I pray for YOU.

I pray that one day you’ll come to me, that one day you’ll finally see, that all I write about is YOU.

The thing is I don’t regret falling in and out of love the way I do. I take comfort in knowing that I am out there looking for my prince not sewing scarves somewhere waiting and dreading what might and could be and have been.

Sometimes I regret putting it all out like that, telling you as simple as that. But to me it is simple always was and always will. You love him you get your ass out there and tell him already. Simple right? Yes but dreadful consequences. But then if I don’t my stars will go blue. I can’t live with that.

Funny how love is, who comes to you, you don’t want and who you want never comes. But then I have my hands on a keyboard. I write, I write when they come and when they don’t. I write. I write anyway.

Tonight about you, tomorrow about another, the day after about someone completely different. I write it anyway and I write it all. At that and this moment it’s just all I know to write about.

Defy the Norm

“I love you”, yeah just hit me with the image that pops up at the top of your head. Sweet guy, cute girl, damns good scenery. NAH!

Never would it occur to you that it would be a cute girl saying it to a shy guy whose head over heels in love with her, a blunt girl saying it to a boy that might feel the same or not, or a women brave enough to demand what she deserves and not waste a minute on foreplay. No because you and all of us are slaves of the norms, of our own misconceptions.

So that never occurs to us, none the less God forbid actually do something of a similar manner. 

The guy has to be the one to start, it’s romantic that way. NO, it is perceived that it is more romantic that way. The most romantic marriage proposals ever performed were, yes wait for it, proposals by women!

So why do we do this to ourselves? Well obvious reasons would be insecurities, social pressures and customs, issues, hand me on previous experiences either your own or someone else’s (they think you’re cheap, an easy target then). Well because not enough people defied the current norms to set new ones yes most probably he will. But if you say that and I say that and she says that, then nothing will ever change in this lifetime and not even frustratingly in the next one. So I say NO. I say I love you. I say I care. I say that for his sake and mine. If he loves you, nothing else will matter. If he does not well at the end of the day, he will sleep with a smile on his face knowing that he is loved. Naive you say. Kind I reply. I kind motto to live by and a damn good start for a life full of giving and love.

I might be naive. At least I do what I believe is right and true. Don’t you want to too?

Marwa Arafa


Faith in Fate

I was talking to my aunt a while ago and she said in an outburst,

“It’s like you’re talking about another life not ours.”

“Excuse me; I am not getting you from where I’m standing.”

“Stand somewhere else,” my aunt said sticking her tongue out.

 “Come on. I’m serious.”

“The way I’ve been brought up, women doesn’t get more than one man. Period”, she went on,

“Here you are talking about first, second, and third relationships. And you just don’t get it, we are in an Eastern society darling, it doesn’t work like that around here.”

Now I am not going to argue my way out of that, because whatever I would say wouldn’t change her mind one bit. So I took the words, ended the conversation, and thought about that long and hard.

The next day, I asked her over breakfast, “You got married at seventeen, divorced at twenty nine, he was your one and only. Don’t you regret that?”

She seemed to have gone astray for just a second, and then she said, “Well after I got divorced I couldn’t bear the idea of bringing a husband into the house, who would be a stepfather for my children. Maybe if I didn’t have kids, I would have married again.”

“But that’s not what I meant; didn’t you regret not having any prior relationships to your marriage? Aren’t you lonely now after both your kids are married and off living their own lives?”

“Well to answer your second question first of course I am lonely. I never was able to sleep alone. Now I have to every single night. I ache for company, for a voice in the dark. God I fall ill for weeks and no one gives me a mere phone call. Most days I feel like I am all alone but then my kids and grand kids come to visit me on a Friday and the world looks this much brighter.”

When she stopped, I asked, “Why don’t you ask for help for company?”

She screamed at the top of her voice, “I didn’t ask for help bringing up two toddlers all alone, I ain’t asking for help now.”

“I apologize, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay really; it’s not your fault. I made many mistakes bringing up those kids, things that probably if given a second chance I would have done differently. But there is no second chances, anyway I overcame a lot of my struggles and dilemmas. But I never could get around not being able to ask for help even when I was drowning in bills and children’s needs and desires.”

“It’s okay; it’s something we have in common.”

“These nasty genes”, she laughed. 

Then she went on, “I never had the option of having other relationships, it wasn’t like these days back then. Back in the day if a girl did have a relationship outside marriage most probably no one would marry her. We got sent off so young anyhow. My husband cheating on me was the first time anyone ever broke my heart. Yes, not having prior relationships gave me an opportunity to love him with all my heart. Not have someone to compare him to and just love and give unconditionally. But it’s really God’s fate some of my friends married real men and they were their one and only. They never loved another and they never needed to. But when God’s fate leaves you a single mother at twenty nine, you start having second thoughts about everything.”

I did not want to pressure her further, but I thought about that. I thought about myself and most of my friends and how we are left heartbroken time after time. I envied my aunt she only was hurt once. Then she never knew any other kind of love. Never been kissed out of the blue, never thrown a surprise birthday party, or hugged when she needed to be. Then weighing the pros and cons, I think both of us are not better than one another, not one bit. If I do get my one and only, a certain part of me will always judge according to prior relationships. Then she was never kissed and she did not get hers either. 

In the end, it is not about us having more freedom or being right or even wrong. It is about God’s fate and faith. You have to believe in God knowing best and deal with what comes as it comes, that is faith in fate.

Marwa Arafa


Write them a Love Letter…

In the novel Julie and Julia by Julie Powel, Julie emphasized and thoroughly discussed the new SMS relationships that erupt nowadays. How much easier it is to be intimate in a text then real life now. I was thinking a couple of days back how women and men both should start writing love letters. There is a reason you know why they were so common in the old days. Maybe technology is a double-edged Jagger like many claim. 

The written word never lost its spark or emails would have done the trick right? Word Press and Blogger wouldn’t have made a fortune. We wouldn’t have needed Ezine or Biznik. We would have just made do with LOLs and XOs. But we didn’t and they do make a fortune. Because actual spoken and written words in real handwriting on gorgeous looking paper are important. No matter what culture you come from, background, or upbringing. Our mother’s and grandmother’s have a letter stashed somewhere, right? Whether your grandpa was away on business or fighting the Nazis. A letter was always there hidden somewhere, to take out and reminisce when the days grow weary and the nights grow long.

What will I have to show my kids when they come? A folder in my email inbox. A chat history. How lame is that? And really Julie there is no romance in that at all! All women ever want and keep continuously asking for is romance. How are you supposed to have that when you don’t want to make the simplest effort like writing a letter. On a blog a couple of days back, the blogger’s husband put her sticky notes with words of love all over the house. She found one on the refrigerator when she was reaching for the milk for her morning coffee, another on the cupboard, another on the iron, another on the bathroom door, and another on the door of their apartment, all over the house. She later knew that he woke up 5 am to make her all that. That’s someone who works on his relationship, who does the effort. You want the romance you gotta sweat the sweat.

So don’t tell me that Love Letters are old and had their glory days already. Go write the one you love  a love letter even if it’s on a sticky note that will be thrown away most probably. Tell them you love them, show them that you love them. Write them a Love Letter.

Let me give you a push, it should probably go something like this:

Dear Love,

To me that’s what you are and what you will always be my love. Today, tomorrow, and baby you were my one and only yesterday. I love you won’t do and promises fail. All I have to offer you is my love, heart, and soul. Claim them for they are yours. All yours. For the day my heart set it’s mind on loving you, they automatically became YOURS.

Yours Truly,

A Woman who loves you today, loved you yesterday, and will keep on loving you tomorrow.

Marwa Arafa

True Activism (Or what’s left of it) and What it has to Do with Islamic Liberalism: For WeSpeakNews.com

So Politics is the new “Cool”, kinda of weird actually, for people who have been falling in and out of Politics all their life. People like me and many guys and gals I care about. But gotta go with the flow. And God there is no more beautiful flow than this. Art, Politics, and Culture entwining together and revolutionizing into the new Trend. Perfect, Right? No. Not really and you’re about to know why.

Youssef Chahine said that the Egyptian people are as spiritual as they are sensual. Not many people pay much attention to that description. Although it really wit holds the answer to pretty much everything that is going on now in Egypt. 

Egyptians adapted Western Concepts, Ideologies, and Dreams. They neither adopted them fully (even if they did they wouldn’t know how to fit them in our society and culture) nor did they adopt only what can be beneficial and resourceful for our Egyptian Community. The thing is this is where ignorance is actually a blessing.

Liberalism concepts that have been adopted at the beginning of the Arab Spring and not only Egypt, concepts like Democracy, Freedom of Speech, Social Justice and Dignity, and Bread to all. They are the basics, basics of existence, of life, and of Freedom. That’s why Liberalism is the most adopted ideology around the world more than communism or fascism. Because it’s simple and just. The blessing of ignorance lies in people not knowing the definition of Liberalism in the first place. So it’s the How that’s the problem. How to adapt old rules into a new game.

Liberalism stands on a secular ground. Many activists have called for that more than once on more than one occasion. The thing is the separation of  religion from the state, gosh the separation of religion from anything doesn’t come naturally to Egyptians at all. They are simply too spiritual. They want Democracy, they want freedom of speech, they want social justice, and they definitely want economic prosperity and equality. Because it just all sounds good and just and more importantly because they are way too sensual to pass on things as great as that. The dilemma lies in the balance between the sensuality and spirituality.

How to work around the profound connection with God no matter what their religion is and merge that with Liberal and Modern Concepts. The thing is on real ground what has proved to us is that it is achievable. 

So let’s just stop and reassess for a second okay? Who are the people, who are working, really working, for the welfare of the Egyptian Community now? Sadly the same ones who were working in 2007 in the Worker’s Protests, and the same people who stood in Khaled Said’s silent protest on the Corniche of Alexandria holding candles. They didn’t change, which is sad and frustrating, but none the less TRUE. Because you need to take out the remainders of businessmen that were in direct co-operation with Mubarak’s Regime and are in defiance now, the wanna bes, the hypocrites, and the God damn thieves that didn’t get their chance to rob and con the Egyptian people in Mubarak’s era out of their money, their businesses and market are blooming now. So taking all these out, who do we have left?

A Muslim Brotherhood 20-year-old member that just doesn’t believe in what the elders and Brotherhood administration is saying any more and has a feeling in the bottom of his gut that something is off.

A 20-year-old Salafi member who has been in exile in his own country all his young life, dazed confused and just wanna do the right thing.

A young 20-year-old think he is but really is not Liberal that has been brought up on the banks of Western education and has been affected by it more than he’d like to admit.

Young folks that have gone down in 2007, 2009, and 2011 and will probably go down in 25 January 2012 too.

They don’t know what they’re called and try hopelessly to gather and mobilize themselves in organizations and movements that always have the same title, I mean you can only say the same thing in so many words “Egypt”.

They don’t know anything else and they don’t care about nothing else, all they know is Egypt. And so they try to make sense of an illogical predicament that no one expected and no one knows how to react to.

They try to hide behind figures they think are true and good. These people disappoint them in so many more ways than one. Worst thing ever to happen to someone who believes in the idea of believing is being let down. So they are let down, time and again.

They break off and defy. Then when they do it, takes them forever to figure out just what the hell they’ll do now. But they figure it out in time. They are the answer, the missing piece. Unity in real world. True  Unity. They will find their way. Now they might not know what they’re called but I do.

Islamic Liberalism many won’t like me that much now. But you don’t have to like me or listen to me or read my opinion, all you have to do is take a true and honest look around you and see.

You’ll find a traditional coffee shop at the corner of my street where most of the men in my neighbourhood hang around and about.

College professors, students high school and college, butchers, supermarket owners, dry cleaners, etc… They hear the prayer Christians help Muslims lay down the mats to pray and sit down waiting while they do. Then when they come back they switch on the T.V. and instead of watching the news then turning on the radio (to listen Eza3et El Aghany (Oldies Music Radio Broadcast)) or watch the soccer match or the concert airing, they tune in to the political and social talk shows instead. They hear the hypocrites out then turn them off and turn on the radio. The radio in the background they talk politics and life till 2 am. Day in day out. Now tell me what you call that ? They argue what democracy is Professors butting in to state things they really don’t know a thing about in the first place but they’re all happy none the less. Christians don’t think they’re marginalized and the Coffee Shop owner don’t give a damn in God’s name if that boy that comes everyday with his friends has a beard so long it makes the ground look so darn close. What do you call that ? Agree with me or not that’s Islamic Liberalism. No fancy definitions, or long explanations, simply profound.

That’s how our society has fit the new fancy words in their normal lives. After Eisha prayer and before El Fagr prayer. Don’t fight the people. Don’t force upon them what they don’t accept. Lay your tongue down and sit down and observe how they solved your difficult dilemmas. Then put a name tag on it. Islamic Liberalism.

Marwa Arafa

This piece was published on http://www.wespeaknews.com: http://www.wespeaknews.com/world/true-activism-or-whats-left-of-it-and-what-it-has-to-do-with-islamic-liberalism-16471.html

Guess there ain’t NO Changing A GIRL LIKE ME But then I am 19 and Crazy =D

When I was ten I got away with stealing cookies, skipping chores, and telling a “bad” man that he was BAD in the face.

When I was twelve I got scolded when I ate too much (as mum started thinking I should start watching my weight), taking out the trash and the dishes were an absolute MUST, and I got glared at when I said NAUGHTY!!!

I did get away with running around the house like a Mad girl though, going out whenever I wanted, and I still enjoyed as ridiculous as it sounds minimum amount of PRIVACY.

Then fourteen came I had to keep my manners in mind as I was growing up to be a “young lady” so, no running around the house for me,

“Be Polite Young Lady”,

Knee beside knee “Keep your legs closed, do not put one leg on top of another”,

and “For Goodness sakes lower your voice”.

“Whose that boy?”,

“That’s my best friend, Daddy, we’ve known each other since we were toddlers”,

“Well you ain’t going out with him alone”,

“Daddy”,

“Don’t Daddy me, that’s a direct order young lady”,

with that went going out whenever I wanted with who I wanted.

“What the Fuck?”,

“Mind your language young lady”,

“That’s my laptop, Fuck that’s my email”,

“God Damn it, your language” ,

and my privacy went with the wind. 

Of course no one suspected me having a boy friend “that young”, so me and my first love went where ever we wanted whenever we wanted (as ironic as it is Daddy was more worried about my friends who were boys then my actual boy friend). There was my grades of course I still could get away with an F and Report Cards such fragile things in the face of forgery!!! Last but not least I still could pull a mini skirt on and get out of the house without a metal detector and 2 security guards aka. mum and dad feeling me up and down. 

Yes yes yes sixteen. Let’s just say that as I get older the amount of things I can actually get away with is most definitely getting smaller and smaller.  I can not squirm a phone call from under my mother’s nose any more and of course my parents strict unconditional belief  in parental supervision on any technological interactions. The no Boys around the house is extended to car, club, and outings. But then what you can’t know can’t hurt you!  Now grades get sent by email and dismissal letters to my home’s mailbox. You don’t want me to go into clothing, make up, and hair really you don’t. 

From sixteen on something changed call it a girl who was shown the way, let out, call it whatever you wanna call it. I woke up and I wasn’t that little girl any more, something snapped. Now I have always been a rebel always but right then and there I just knew that there were things that if not gone through with now, they probably never will take place.

So I just decided to take the hard way and it hadn’t gotten any easier since. I have stories by the stack, all nice, pretty and mad as hell. I am gonna put them in a book one day. But me knowing that I have enough stories for a book doesn’t make the living now any easier. 

It’s hard but I like to think it’s worth it, I like to think so, to convince myself so. 

I carved my motto unto stone “Never be it too late to do a thing. Do what needs to be done. What you feel that must be done. Now before the clock strikes it’s time up. Let your heart lead the way, your soul pave your path, and your faith light your sky along the way like fallen stars”

Then nineteen came and I decided to be crazier then I ever was. I thought you only were seventeen once but it turned you you really are nineteen once 😉 But then I didn’t get a kick out of TWENTY just yet.

No one could ever did know how to change me, but in that area I wouldn’t know how to change me even if I wanted to ^_^

Maybe I am just a Girl like no other and maybe there are tens and thousands of gals like me. Girls who want to settle down yet just want to be free. Girls who are BOLD enough to say Fuck and whose cheeks redden when they are on the verge of receiving a cute compliment. Girls that when love give it there all, yet have enough insecurities and issues to drown Titanic all over again. Girls like me. Gals just like me.