Me From The Past

Dear me from the past,

The world will end, as worlds often do. The sight of blue surgical face masks tossed carelessly on lawns, and blowing forlornly on dirty streets, will become a familiar one. You will see white masks too, like shot doves, under cars, flung on tree branches, stuck like fugitives against chain-link fences, and this will remind you of a tragic final seen in a war movie. Speaking of which, movie theatres will become a wistful memory.

The world as you once knew it will end, and you will realize - despite everything - how safe you were, and how in a blink of an eye, you’ll never feel that safe again, ever. The mammoth threat of the pandemic will dwarf every other superficial fear you once had. A tsunami you can’t close your door against, or climb the highest mountain to escape; a blind, indiscriminate hurricane that sweeps everything in its wake.

In this world, a staggering number of deaths will be reported mundanely every morning, and you’ll casually turn your eyes away from the news, numb. In this world people will become even more distant, physically and emotionally; they will avoid each other like the plague (pun intended), eyeing each other with suspicion and hostility.

In this world you’ll regret squandering all those places; the pleasure of walking the corridors of an art museum and contemplating beauty, the ease in which you dined at restaurants, and met friends at cafes, the chatter and noise of beaches, parks, gyms, malls, bars, parties, stations, fairs, airports, and parades.

Once you settle into this new foreign world, once it becomes normal, as strange new worlds often do, you will remember a time “before” quarantine, and you will add it to the list of “befores” you’ve collected. Before it was normal to take off shoes, belts, and jewelry at an airport. Before it was normal to see terrorists behead innocent people. Before it was normal to see a great whale washed ashore with tons of human garbage exploding from its gut. Before you saw a white cop kneel on the neck of a black man so many times, it stops making you flinch.    

The Kiss

 

The lake changes, it expands, it contracts, it sounds impossible but it’s true; the shimmering greens and blues mix, then lash, then mix again, a tragic and beautiful piece of art. 

I walked with him hand in hand, hot fingers tangled; every little squeeze sends a jolt of fire through me.

Small fishing boats bobbing on the surface of the water, the geese and the seagulls fussing and crying. But I don’t see, I want him to kiss me.

We walk into a small wood, “what have you been thinking about this week?” I ask him. “You” he says sweetly. He takes me into his arms. Time is a strange thing, the kiss is hungry, feverish, and urgent. Was it a moment or forever long? We were forever in the woods, the dark tall trees leaning in to see. I stand on my toes, and he bends to reach me. His hot hands on my lower back take my breath away. We come out of the woods changed, stumbling and blind.

At home I’m useless, unable to focus on anything, my mind in a kind of stupor “him, him, him, I want him.” I try to quiet down my blood, I wash my muddy sneakers, scrubbing them hard. I clean the fridge with deliberate intensity, its coolness against my blazing chest, my hands mechanical in their movement, I push my volcanic desire down, I feel the ease in which his fingers encircle my waist, I burn.    

Outdoors Art Show

Had my first Outdoors art show Saturday 6/6/2020

It was wonderful. People came and were appreciative, and I sold seven paintings!

Check out my art on my website https://fatimaalmatar.com/art/

I Can't Breathe

When I saw the video of George Floyd being murdered by a white cop, I felt physical pain, I couldn't breathe.

I can't do anything, but I have a voice. My daughter and I attended the protest that took place in Cleveland, Ohio, Saturday May 30th.

The protest began peaceful but turned violent and destructive, with tear gas bombs thrown at protestors.

Protests against police brutality are now taking place across America, for Floyd and other black victims. When the media and the fucking-good-for-nothing-politicians criticize the riots and the violence these protests are inducing, I want to ask them, what choice do the people have? We feel pain, we feel anger, we want police brutality against black people to stop. How can we as a hurting society channel our pain and anger? And what example have the authorities set for the people? When we've seen them continuously use violence and aggression against black bodies, then turn their eyes away from all the injustice.

A Fullness. A Calm. A Complete Happiness.

I went for a walk, enjoying the glorious sunshine, the warmth on my bare skin, the cool breeze in my hair, the tremendous sky, sparkling blue, clouds white and enormous. Iced coffee from a local café, I lay under gigantic tree and fell in love with every leaf, the vibrancy of a myriad shades of green blew my mind away. Thick, soft grass sprawled under my body, a luscious carpet, I watched shape-shifting clouds float by, I’m so comfortable I could sleep out here, on this plush grass, under this breath-taking sky. I felt my heart burst with joy! How can lying under a tree make me so happy? A perfect simple happiness, a fullness, an intense sense of well being, a calm, a satisfaction so complete. “I’m so grateful, so grateful” I repeated to myself, smiling, my eyes half-closed in dreaminess. I’m so grateful for all the beauty that surrounds me every single day.

The Self-centered Bastard

I let go of God,


That angry, precarious, revenge thirsty, self-centered, bastard who hates women, gays, and denounces all religions except Islam.


God is the stick my parents threatened me with,


God, God, God they sneered


“Be obedient or God will damn you”

“Do as I tell you or God burn you”

“Stay silent or God will blind you”


God, God, God!


All God wanted to do is shroud me, veil me; “Cover up, be modest and pious, or you’ll entice the men who have no self-control, because that’s how I made them.”


I let go of God, the stick.


And it felt like missing a tooth. I kept feeling the gap with my tongue, waiting for a new tooth, a wiser tree to set its roots and grow, but nothing came.


Cold air blew through my tooth gap, and made my gums dry, a void I thought I had to fill.


I filled it with philosophy, I filled is with spirituality, I filled it with poetry, I filled it with literature, I filled it with food, I filled it with rage, I filled it with tears, I filled it with sex, I filled it with science.


I tried, in vain, to understand time, I tempted fate, I stared my shadow in the eyes and it looked nothing like me, I chewed and chewed on my rubbery, tasteless emotions and swallowed them.


My eyes knew something my heart didn’t, my mind knew what neither knew, my body knew the most, and was calm and quiet like a Buddha; smiling more and more with age, and became happier and happier with less.


When I wake up every morning, I carefully pick the shards of the past from my skin, I catch myself before a prayer, what is there to pray for? 


Reality is lie,


Healing is a lie,


Birth and death are lies,


And there were never, others.

Dan

We walked in the woods, talked and laughed about nothing, about everything. We sipped on our cool caramel coffee drinks from Dunkin, topped with whipped cream, and swirls of chocolate and cinnamon. We stopped at different trees and tried to identify them by their leaves, we marveled at a giant Magnolia tree we’ve never seen before, I said the baby leaves of the Sycamore looked like small bats waiting to unfold their wings. We gaped at the deer in awe and wonderment, and they stared back at us with equal bewilderment.


Dan, with his easy smile, his sweet green hazel eyes, his quick laugh. Dan, with his witty humor, and his colorful creative mind. Dan, who listened, and was careful, and thoughtful, and kind. Dan, tall, slim, blond, and carelessly shaven. Dan with his oversized sweater, and his baggy jeans, and classy Ray-Bans.


He hugged me hello, and we joked about giving each other the virus. When he hugged me goodbye I wanted to linger, a minute, or twenty. I wanted to be held by Dan for a year. How wonderful it was to be hugged, missed, loved.