Life is much easier than our complex mind

Sitting somewhere or probably lying on your bed,

Sleep deprived, feeling no hunger, losing your “joie de vivre”

Untold words whirl vehemently in your mind

Constantly reminding you of the problems you have.


You wish to see no one,

You refuse to leave your house.

It has become your shelter, that is what you like to think,

While it actually grasped your soul so that in darknes you remain. so, you think of your problems, again and again,

Until you are drunk from it, giving up, sleeping dead.

Because sleep is your abstract asylum,

A place you escape to get your tranquilizer.


In the night, or, during the day,

You cry out your pains,

You strive to find the right words to describe your sufferings,

You know God hears you but you think He won’t help you.

So you go somewhere to find a place,

So that you can sit or lie down to think.

To think of a way to get out of your problems.


Your head hurts, your body aches, your soul is weakening.

Hopeless feelings slowly invade your being,

Now you are no more capable of completing a simple task.


Your body is so heavy that it pull you down deep and deeper.

And one day, in the darkest part of your world,

Serene sunrays invite to to stand up, to stand up and live your life.

To smile to life because after all it a circle of tempests and sunny days.

We spend our time thinking of our problems until we become weak,

In the end life much is easier than our complex mind.

© Fateema Abdallah


Let Her Fly!


Her only desire is to fly to her freedom.

You always ask her to go away, affirms her arrival in your life worsened your fate, you are probably right. She admits it. You are not a good element either for her. There is no compatibility between you both. You are like oil and water, will never ever get along, so why to continue?

You ask her to fly away but you are holding a part of her wings. Everyday she tries to move, every time you appear as an obstacle. By your side life is chaotic, there is no beginning, there is no end. She goes through the same feelings, the same tears, the same problems. There seems to be no solution because you forbade people to help you both in this matter.

Her current life is like a sailor lost in the ocean. Normally she should know what to do but you created a confusion in her mid. Every horizon she looks at shows no land where she can go and ask for help. Her life is tumultuous, the waves constantly shakes her home. The waves also swallow into oblivion the tears that ought to tell the story of her sadness. People will never know because nobody wants to dive into mysterious waters.

She wants to fly away, to ascend to her freedom. She wants to see the sun again. She wants to see the colors of life. She has enough of the stormy skies that stand as a roof. Her actual home is her prison, she knows she does not belong to it. Your house hates her. Your house shelters her into madness. Even though the windows and doors are wide open, there is an invisible force that always pulls her back to that house.

Let her be unchained. Butterflies are not meant to stay in the same place. If they do not fly they will die. Let her fly to other lands. Let her fly to meet new people. Let her fly to breathe a new air. Let her fly so that she can live again.It is time you stop asking for a love she can no longer give you.

It is time you take your fingers off her delicate wings.

© Fateema Abdallah

Without You


How does it feel to be in love? My heart is impermeable to that feeling. It is a stone that does not melt.

What is it like to have butterflies in one’s tummy? I remember that once I had some in mine but the doors of my hear were so wide open that the butterflies went away.

Where are the nights when I used to think of you before sleeping. Why don’t the soft mornings come back again? I needed them to start a new day. You gave me the strength to cope with everything. By your side, I felt beautiful. With your love flowing inside of me I felt alive.

I miss that smile on my face looking at your pictures or reading your messages. I used to keep your words in a box, they were my own jeweleries, my treasure. And anytime I needed you, I would open it to find comfort in your written speeches. I read them many times, again and again, but I forgot to learn them by heart.


I am looking for those days when after our silly little fights our love grew stronger. How stupid I was to be sure that I would spend my life with you. We went as far as inventing a child of our own. It was a girl named Cutie. She existed only for you and me. She was part of our madness. Alas! She disappeared as soon as we ended our love story. Like a ghost turned into dust, she was blown away by the wind of time.

You went, I stayed and waited. You found another lady. My sadness forced me to step into the future and to leave you in the past. I hated you. Why does love replace hate in many cases? I don’t know the reason.

I offered my love to someone else. I forgot you. I thought I forgot you. One day, my path came across yours. It was like a junction where the past mixed with the present and then I remembered everything.

Is it a shame for one to dream or think about someone who is not his/her spouse? You said you were happy for me, happy that I did not wait for you and went ahead in life. I wish you to be happy too.

But still, a part of you remained in my heart. With time, you’ll probably fade away from me. A part of me is there with you no matter where you are. Without you, I will always feel incomplete.

© Fateema Abdallah

Picturing My Mind


• My mind is a mournful secret garden where no one can enter and from where I cannot escape.

The midnight blue sky is illuminated by no stars. Only the moon sometimes lighten my path through the deep darkness.

The navy blue clouds, strong and threatening often pour a tearful rain all over my world.

The air is filled with a suffocating atmosphere, an environment conducive to the growth of my dementia.

Roses are made with velvet. They are of a profound black, of a deep purple and of a bleeding red.

They seem attractive and yet immense thorns protect them from being touched.

• Not far from my rose garden, there is my lake.

It is limpid but when I look at my reflection into its mirror, I cannot help but shiver at the sight of its obscure abyss on the other side.

It is the lake of my sorrows. A water I cannot drink or bathe in for fear I might be swallowed into a nothingness where forever I will be lost.

• There are days when I climb the mountains and remain sitting on a rock for hours, contemplating the horizon.

It is a place where lies my future but which I am scared of exploring and stepping inside.

So I just keep on thinking of what might happen, thinking, thinking until everything in my head keep swirling, nagging me…

And I end up sleeping because what I live inside my mind… is tiring.

© Fateema Abdallah

The Married Life of Sania

The day Sania married the man that is now her husband was the worst mistake she made in all the years she spent on earth till now.

She recalled when one of her sisters introduced that stranger to her. She did not see his face that day. Just perceived him from the back. Her sister encouraged her to talk to him, to exchange her number with him. Sania was not interested in being maried yet but when you are single and of an age that people think you SHOULD get married , they won’t leave you in peace.

She does not remember wether she accepted to give her number heartfully or was it to please the people who pressured her in getting to know that man? Then, Sania and that stranger had a chat via their phones. She noticed from the beginning the weird opinions he had of Islam. He was a convert but believed in an Islam different from what she had learnt in madrasa. She ceased to talk to that man and told her sister about the issue she encountered through the SMS she exchanged with that man. She knew he was not her other half and that things would not work betwen them.

However , her sister invited her to talk to that stranger again and to be patient with him. That was what Sania did and she wish she never ever did that.


It has been three years since Sania felt as if she were traped in her mariage. She was with a man whom she never understood and who never understood her either. Her husband believed in the fact that any man could be with any woman and that compatibility was just a lie people refered to so that a couple could make things work together. Sania’s husband like many men loved to control and to be right. To succeed in his affairs, religion was his reference to impose his opinions on his wife. He did not mind to use any coranic verse or hadith just for his own interest without looking for its true meaning and its right interpretation.

Sania knew that Islam was a beautiful religion but from the day she married that man, she could hardly find solace in it because it was the tool her husband utilized to shape her mind the way he wanted her to think. What to do? Where to go? How to go ahead in life? Sania had no answer. In fact she lost the ability to think by herself as she was forced to accept the ideas and opinions of someone else.

When she wanted to leave her mental persecutor, Sania’s husband would always say that he was a gift for her and that no other man could make her happier. Poor man, he did not realize how he made his wife become a lifeless person. A soul who little by little was losing  the colors that composed her happiness. She was tired to fake emotions she did not feel. She was depressed to be intimate with a man she did not love.

But sometimes, when she is alone, she dreams of having another life.She dreams of being with a man who can make her happy, she dreams of having a family life with a “normal” person who won’t use religion to explain his weaknesses, opinions and failures in life.

May Allah bring that person into your life dear Sania. Ameen.

Strangers We Used to Know


Many people are now strangers that we used to know

And we know that we will never ever meet them again

For once when we met, things went into disaster.

Heart broken that took years to heal,

Fragmented memories that haunt us like a melody,

Children that remind us of people we want to forget.

Kept objects filled with moments we wish to keep eternal.

Some of us want to suffer from amnesia

And those who suffer from amnesia want to remember again.

Many people are now strangers that we used to know

And we know that we will never ever meet them again.

© Fateema Abdallah