Za7ra Sulaiman Poems

Without the winter, we wouldn't appreciate summer,
When blossoms burst forth, a vibrant new drummer.
The chill in the air, the frost on the ground,
Teach us the beauty in warmth that is found.
...

I'll always be the barista, giving away every cup,
Ones destined for other hands, ones never meant for mine.
I pour the rich, aromatic brew, my heart held up,
Watching as strangers take a sip, their smiles intertwine.
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What if I get everything I ever want and it's still not enough, the money, the clothes, the house, the career? What if I get it all and it still isn't enough because I don't have you? What if it brings me back to all those years ago when I realized no amount of money or career or tangible things could ever equate to what we had and our puppy dog love and everything we shared and our laughs and our cries and our talk about a future. What if it's never enough, because the future I created no longer has you in it, while I find myself wishing on stars and picking up pennies like they'll grant me some form of redemption. What if I find the man of my dreams and he is everything I'm supposed to want, kind eyes, steady hands, good intentions, and he gets on his knee and the memories barrel through me. What if I realize I don't want the man of my dreams? I just want the man that haunts them
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Do you ever see someone
and think, "Wow, God must hate me, "
'Cause He spent so much time on them
and for me, He got lazy?
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I'm sorry, my love, that I haven't yet healed,
The wounds in my heart still so raw and unsealed.
I wish I could give you the pure, untouched love
That your gentle soul so clearly dreams of.
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She's just a woman, outwardly pious and pure,
But within, a tempest rages, a battle she can't endure.
The nafs, that insatiable self, lurks in the shadows of her mind,
Tempting her, taunting her, leaving her spirit entwined.
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In my maze of longing, I lose my way,
Caught in the heat of words I ache to say.
Each kiss imagined, each touch unseen,
A guilty hunger in this fevered dream.
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What if

What if 'mine' was written on your thigh,
Only in my mind's eye?
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I'll worship like a dog in the shrine of your lust

Intoxicated by your allure,
I prostrate myself at your altar.
...

I was a shiny wheel, once full of life,
Spinning with purpose, cutting through strife.
But now, I'm a shadow of my former self,
Abandoned, forgotten, left on the shelf.
...