String Games

A line of yarn, knotted at the end
Makes an endless circle.
It's hurtful
How the kids in the playground treat her.
Year after year,
She tries to make friends,
But she's different
And ignored.
So when she's bored
She untangles her only friend,
Then weaves pictures
Through her fingers
As the others look on with jealousy,
But they can't see
That if they only asked her name,
She'd teach them her source of fame-- 
String games.

Undergraduation

"Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world." -Nelson Mandela

On the day I graduated with my B.A. in Psychology, I got dressed and rode with my family to campus to take photos. I was excited to have completed this phase of my life, but I was slightly more upset by the people that I wanted to see me walk across the stage being unable to attend. Despite being a very sentimental person, I told myself I wouldn't cry.

Inevitably, I did.

As the ceremony began, the American flag was marched in by young men and women who have pledged to serve our country after completing their education. Once the national anthem began to play, tears sprung to my eyes. My first thought was that Pakistani's don't show their emotions, so I should wipe the tears away and smile, but I let that pass.

Listening to the national anthem, I was reminded of all the sacrifices that had been made in order to get me to this moment. Specifically, my parents moved halfway across the world--away from their families and comfort of home--in order to raise me in a country that would allow me the opportunities to get an education and become a professional in whatever field I chose. Yes, I worked hard in school and strove to move forward in life, but my path was really set long before I was born.

Where the Road Forks

A narrow path leads to a fork
A crosswalk on one side
Come this way, the pavement calls
The other, there's nowhere to hide

To tread upon the path less traveled
Means to be stung by twigs and thorns
But to continue toward a familiar road
Means bombardment by eyes and horns

Exhale

Exhale onto the wind

Let the current sweep by

Release the moments

Release the memories

Release the musty air

Inhale into the sun

Breathe in a lullaby

Embrace life's smiles

Embrace sage strength

Embrace the glow of time

Phoenix

Out of the ashes springs my love.
Feathers of red and gold
Fall across his broad shoulders, 
Rippling with the wind trying,
Trying to push him down.
Tears in his eyes
He looks at me and smiles
"I used to be beautiful."
Climbing over rubble, I call to him
"You will always be beautiful,"
For I can only tell the truth.
His bravery and courage
Shine the light through the darkness.
Even as he burns, he grows.

My Earliest Memory of Anxiety

When I was 4 or 5-years-old, nearing the start of kindergarten, my preschool had sod installed in the back of the playground. After one of my weekly concerts, where my best friend and I would sing our favorite song, "Follow Me" by Uncle Kracker, for the other students, I noticed the new sod. I found it absolutely fascinating that grass could be pulled up in sheets, and I decided to hide small objects underneath a few of them. Smugly, I placed an acorn under one of the pieces of sod, imagining that a huge tree would grow in it's place.

As soon as we were led back inside, I began feeling incredibly guilty. Clearly if there was supposed to be a tree there, someone would have planted one. The next day, I tried to remove the acorn, but I could never find it. While the sod took root, I had terrible nightmares in which I was playing when a full-grown tree suddenly appeared. In my dream, the adults were baffled and called the police to investigate. The nightmares lasted for weeks, and I lived in a constant state of worry that my crime would be found out.

On one of the last days of preschool, my father was driving to drop me off. I remember suddenly bursting into tears and confessing the illegal tree planting. He reassured me that I had done nothing wrong, and that a tree would probably not grow there, anyway. Instantly, I felt freed.

Now, more than 15 years later, I still think about that instance. Whenever I feel like my thoughts are irrational, I remind myself of the acorn. I can't help but wonder, however, if a tree ever managed too take root.

Welcome to My Mind

Welcome.

There's a boom box in the corner
That never turns off.
It's fine, though--
There's always a reason to dance--
As long as you remember that
Only you can hear the music.

There's a constant rhythm
Keeping the world in time--
Tap, tap, tap,
Knock, knock, knock--
It's impossible to fall out.
Your body will soon keep the beat.

We can certainly converse,
As long as you can hear me
Over the sounds. Oh, and
Pardon the mess.
My thoughts swirled by
Right before you arrived.

It's a work in progress,
It's small and cramped,
But it's my very own.
So, wipe your shoes by the door
And leave your coat behind.
You've arrived.

Welcome to my mind.