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  • Sahar Abdulaziz

From Behind The Keyboard


Behind the keyboard, through my window I have watched in awe and admiration as the seasons enter and exist, all with a blustery affair. With each gush of breeze blows in the promise of a new awakening or slumber. Through the window I watch, I sit, I contemplate, and I study how my life has become a mimic, a reflection of what nature provides so effortlessly.

Like the rain, my tears have gushed down at times in uncontrollable torrents, cleansing a heavy heart. Some of the lighter drizzles of tears have marked an occasion, a thanking, a remembrance while others have been angry, erosions of the heart and unkind.

Like the steadfast sun, I recognize the potential of what light sets to reveal, but when my eyes cast a shadow, like the moon? They do not absorb but are mere reflectors of the all that I have laid witness to, voluntarily or not.

The snow when it falls blankets the cold hard earth much like when the pain has enveloped my soul. And when the rain up above falls to earth like the hail it becomes my frozen tears for a world so cold and uninviting. A world in which integrity and humanity have been dismissed, and in its place tempted with shrouded hate.

Outside my window, I observe as the birds search for their next fortifying meal, a glorious symphony of fluttering wings and equal repose.

I marvel at the deer silently hoofing their way through the dense forest unassuming. Respectful of their environment yet naturally blending into their surroundings, content to coexist with their dissimilar neighbors.

I hear the distant echoing sounds of woodpeckers tapping their songs into the bark of trees in search of nourishment. Hard at work, they tirelessly keep within a set rhythmic yet mesmerizing tempo akin to a beating heart.

Surrounded by trees of all shapes, sizes, and complexion, swaying in provided winds, reaching in unison to the heavens, all in total submission to their milieu. The trees, -our majestic wooded mascots and royal timekeepers are welcoming homes to so many. Some visitors like my woodpecker friends come and go while others take on a more permanent residence, yet all are welcome. The trees make no distinctions. They exist to provide. Their generosity knows no bounds while their life force roots fortify ill-fallen trees with medicinal nourishment. They build no walls. They call for no exclusion.

From behind my keyboard, I have watched in dismay words race in heated debate, back and forth with the sole aim to slay, mock or belittle. To castigate or lay blame, to cast a shadow on the existence of different in order to lay claim to power that no sentient being should aspire to.

From behind my keyboard, I have watched people skillfully pitted one against the other by lizard tongue demonic demigods and baiters. Reaching into the lowest of depths to cunningly lure the easily malleable into believing half-twisted truths. All to motivate the most deprived of rejoinders.

From behind my keyboard, I have watched hurt flow like rivers; pain build like dams, and death sprinkle from the skies like leaves fluttering to the ground, aimlessly.

What is my part in this God-awful play? Where do I belong? Am I a keeper of capsulated time or a benefactor of words? Do I go off-script and disclose all the hypocrisy or do I relegate my attention to distraction? Am I obligated to draw printed pictures with words? Expose tyranny and lies? Or should I merely hate what I hate in the privacy of my heart and call it a day, -since humankind seems so predestined to repeat proudly the ills of history, genocide and all?

From behind by keyboard the seasons have once again changed and with it her inhabitants. As life begins to push once again up through the cold, dry, cracked earth, the promise of existence can be inhaled in every hungry breath. Heard from every quiet corner, seen through the lens of the willing and the awake.

Take it all in now for if we continue on this tattered course; the outcome is dismal at best. For in truth, it is not the animals or the rains or the trees or the rocks or the valleys or the dirt that is the stupid, but the people The people who are setting themselves on a course for ruin, despite living on a land so forgiving. It is the people who build artificial walls and make distinctions that even trees can effortlessly render useless. It is the people who have turned against themselves and in this consuming hate, they will cease to exist, because even a fire must be fed to burn and eventually, when there is nothing or no one left to blame, the flames of hate will also disappear and hope and humanity along with it.

The choice is ours. Change is in our hands. I pray we as people can become smarter, kinder, and wiser than our animal friends, our rivers, waters, rains, trees, and rocks.

Yes, for even rocks have proven to be more intelligent than us recently.


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Facebook - But You LOOK Just Fine

But You LOOK Just Fine: Unmasking Depression, Anxiety, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Panic Disorder and Seasonal Affective Disorder is a revelatory book which shows through words and pictures, how those who live with a mood disorder often wear a social mask of normalcy and calm even though they are living with disruptive psychic pain on the inside.

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