Do They Know?

baba

 

Do they know? Do they feel? Do they wonder? Do they see? Do they expect? Do they have hope? Do they still love? These questions all surround one explicit idea, and inevitable part of our lives. The dying.

How hard it must be to come to reality that you will not get better. How terrifying it must be to know there is a chance you will one day take your last breath unexpectedly. Just that small ounce of hope they have. That look they give you that they have given up.

The most petrifying look you can see in their eyes. Would they still be here if they would have tried a little harder, or was this it? It was that last look you gave that you may not return home. The sickness that made you weaker. The sickness that took your strength. The sickness that made you doubt. The sickness that made you cry. The sickness that made you lose yourself. The sickness that left your family within darkness. The sickness that took you away. The difficulties to look before your last days. The difficulties it has been to accept, but regardless move forward. You were smart, and you didn’t kid yourself. You knew. You felt. You accepted it, without us knowing you did. You tried to be stronger, but it took over you. The last days of your life were the most difficult, because it was supposed to be the road to your recovery. But instead it was to a dark, and unsettling road. It was your destiny. It was your story coming to an end, but your memory to an eternal life.

Your eyes had darkness, your heart of gold.
Your sounds of love, your feelings of old.
You whispered in my ear, you are strong.
I looked to your eyes, and hymned your song.
The song of strength. The song of your life.
Despite your end, we still stand.
Never forget you, as we still hold your hand.
Your memories are forever ours.
As each one of us were your stars.
A father we loved together with those days.
Together as a family we made our ways.
As we still remember in our lives.
We think of you still standing by our side.

In Loving Memory of My Father July 26, 1960-June 8th, 2013

An Open Letter: What Happened To Us?

Dear family, friends, and acquaintances,

What happened to us? What happened to the concept of family and close friends?

Have we really lost all reality of what it means to be family? Have we engaged in such superficial dialogue that when we speak to each other there is some hidden agenda?

Can you remember the last time you actually asked about each other without feeling it was an inconvenience? We hide our troubles and pain from each other. Not because we may cause a burden, but because there may be a small portion of that discussion that we may feel will be used against us.

Whether we lost a parent, child, uncle, aunt, grandparent, or cousin, we only appear to ask about each other when in mourn. We are quick to say “if you need anything let me know”, but also so quick to turn away from those who require someone to be there for them emotionally.

We are appearing to engage with each other through online mediums such as Facebook or snapchat, but find it hard to really ask a person how they are doing to their face. We have superficial dialogue that comes immediate to us to ask a person “how are you?” But not really care for the response.

We portray a different person online, comment on pictures, or share photos hoping someone would like it.

I remember as a child when it was someone’s birthday we would always get together. Whether cook outs, holidays, or just to get together. Now we use the excuse that people are getting old, or people have their own families to deal with. This is the time where we should be around each other.

When someone’s in trouble it becomes difficult to help them because we don’t have time. We only grow closer to someone when we lose them.

Some of us are hurting in silence. Some of us are showing hurt in front of all. But we refuse to actually ask our family to speak up and dialogue about the pain.

We defend those so quick that aren’t family or close friends, and put down those who need us the most.

Some things are personal and should be left personal. Your business is yours! I’m talking about the support system that has disappeared. It’s so easy to say “did you hear about so and so”. We enjoy gossip, and talking about other people who we call family. We get involved with someone’s life decisions when it’s convenient for us. We become judgmental because people’s life choices are not ours. We don’t stand up for those who need us the most.
We are quick to make a Facebook status about our feelings, rather than talk to the person about the problems. We seek validation from strangers, and not solve the issue directly with the person we have the problem with.

When someone wants to get married, we talk about why we don’t like the person they chose, and instead we choose not get to know the other person, and see for ourselves. We tell someone how they should spend their money, or ask how much they paid for something. We are consumed with the idea that money is above all. We let money come between family. “He owes me this, or she took this from me”.

We tell those to get a better job, without even knowing what job they already have.
We are too quick to make recommendations, and not understand the other persons perspective.

We believe we know best about someone else’s bad or good choices, without examining our own faults.

We call ourselves Godly, and find it hard to help people in need.

We teach our kids to live a materialistic life, and not understand the true meaning of living.

We separate ourselves from each other based on social and economic status.

We are becoming greedy, and teaching our kids to be greedy as well.

We expect something in return when we do something good for someone.

We get mad or stop talking to each other for things in the past, and go to church with hate in our hearts.

If you believe you have some dark things about yourself that you need to change, take the time to do so.

Show love and compassion to one another.

Visit family members when you can. I know it’s not easy for myself to visit family. But the attempt to actually know your family is needed. What we knew about each other before, is different today.

We get defensive when someone points out the wrong in us.

I know who has been there for me and my family. I also know that my family is open to helping others. Let us help people without any expectation to get something in return.

There is a deep sadness and nostalgic feeling in me that wishes it were my childhood, because that’s when I have felt the most happiness. No technology, no Facebook, just family and making memories. Playing dodgeball with my siblings and cousins, basketball, playing outside and just being children. To go back to that is impossible, but we can make the best of it.

Redefine family to what it used to be and not just something that is disposable.

If I have wronged anyone at all I apologize. I hope that someday we can be honest with each other in a positive way before it is too late. When someone leaves this earth, we begin to feel a bit of regret because of the way we treated them or didn’t treat them.
We all go through something that can’t be explained, but we can be compassionate to one another because we have the ability to be human and loving.

If you got defensive or angry from this, that wasn’t the point. Just to redefine your purpose if you feel a bit lost or hurt.

Sincerely,
Me

A Writers Intent

By: Rhonda Nemri

A writers intent is to provide a different perspective to others. To let the reader experience another persons experiences whether fiction or non fiction. A writers need is to fully express themselves, and most times it’s done creatively. A writer hopes for many readers and commentaries on their writings. But whether one reader or a thousand readers, the writer is at ease because they have released all internal thoughts out. It helps a writer release their thought process out on paper or typed in their computer.

When writers express themselves, they are risking a part of them. Their vulnerability, sensitivity, rage, and passions are exposed, and can be ridiculed by those not agreeing with statements of the writers beliefs, attitudes, and values. But that doesn’t stop them.

A writer may not care for the amount of readers, however a writer surely hopes to reach out and be a helping hand for those who may be internally struggling. For those who may not have the courage to speak up, but to feel connected and not alone in any issues in their lives.

A writers intent is to inspire those who need inspiring, help those that need help, and create another world for those who choose to be lost in words.

A writers intent is to help themselves understand their own voice, and realize the wretchedness of their own oppressions.

I dedicate this to all the writers who inspired me to write, and allowed me to express myself with no regrets.

Destructive Power

By : Rhonda Nemri

They cut you. They cut you so deep, you bleed. But you don’t bleed to death. Just a bunch of cuts that become scars. You don’t walk away, you forgive them. Each time you forgive them, you think to yourself it will be better. When really, you’re handing them that power.

Now this power is so destructive that every time you legitimately have the right to be hurt and upset at them, they make you feel it’s your fault. Each time this happens, another scar is added. You try to walk away, but it’s that power thing that just can’t seem to go away. Whether you are with them or without them, they seem to have this power over you. You lose sleep, you don’t eat, you overly think, you lose yourself in all of this.

Each time you come back you hand them that power again. The sad thing is they know it, and they feed off of it. They need it to survive. And they will survive because you are feeding them your precious soul. You are feeding them your life that used to be yours. But something keeps you around them. Something makes you whole again when they are good. It’s this drug feeling that numbs you, that you can’t even see what’s wrong. But you enjoy it, because with it, it keeps you alive.

They say they need you and want you, but what they need is that power that someone else may not give them the way you give them. That’s real abuse. Not the physical kind, but the emotional and psychological abuse. That abuse will stay forever with you if you keep handing your self control over to the person who thrives over having you by their side only for the sole purpose to control you. This is toxic, and you know it. But you’re afraid that if you walk away, no one will want you the way you’ve laid out your life to the last person. So you stay and forever have lost yourself.

*NOTE*
It isn’t just our intimate relationships that this applies to. Power is a necessity for some in your family, friendships, colleagues, superiors, etc. we all struggle through powerlessness in our lives. But to let someone take over our lives for their sake, we should reconsider them in our lives. Emotional and psychological abuse hurts more than physical. All abuse is harmful, but it is the words that affects us coming from the ones that say they love us.

The Fools Will Chatter

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By: Rhonda Nemri
Photograph painted and photo edited By: Rhonda Nemri

I mustn’t show my tears. Or else the fools will chatter.

I mustn’t show my smile. Or else the fools will chatter.

I mustn’t grief out loud. Or else the fools will chatter.

I must show my tears. Or else the fools will chatter.

I must show my smile. Or else the fools will chatter.

I must grief out loud. Or else the fools will chatter.

Yes the fools will always chatter. With chatter they speak as fools, and fool you to believe they stand beside you as if you’re a fool. But indeed the fool will always be a fool, full of ignorance.

Visionaries

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By: Rhonda Nemri
Photograph taken by Rhonda Nemri

Lying there with your eyes closed and your cold delicate skin, I see you but can’t feel your touch. Throwing myself at you with tears rushing down my face, dripping to the cold ground.

Catching the last moment of your presence as I press my warm face against yours and sing you a song that once was heard.

Revealing my story to you in the last moment before the doors shut. Staring in the eyes of the lost souls, feeling their pain, but nothing can be done.

Consoling one as I feel the wind knocking me down. Creating visionaries in ones mind as we lose the branch off the tree of life.

Whispering voices, crying eyes.
Look around, touch the ground. Fall in hurt, reach for support. Crazy scenes, loud full screams. Stop the ride, feeling to confide.

Moved away quick as they give one last look. Running back to just hold you in that split moment I’m shook.

Soil is moved for your rest. Feeling this urge to fall apart, as the dirt shall fall, and the grass will sprout.

Digging with my bare hands, as I visit your long stay. Feeling this pain that won’t go away. Dig, dig ,dig, but I don’t go far. As I stop the dreaming and walk to my car.

I look one last moment before I leave, and pass through the gates as I weep.

Your memory is in my mind throughout the day. As I place my hand to my broken heart, and hum this way.

As the sun shines I feel your smile. I hope this feeling will stay for a while. I rest my eyes through the night. As I wake things don’t feel right.

The final thoughts are of this life, without a moment of you things don’t feel right.

Painted Silhouettes

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By: Rhonda Nemri
Photograph Taken By: Rhonda Nemri

Colors changing into the mood.
Loud as the fire bursts with creation of realism.

Layered in black cloth as it resembles the feelings of mourn.

Stripping the darkness from its root, and bringing back life.

Shameful appearances of the painted silhouettes.

Once again it shall appear to be solid, but soft as the inner core of the bodies falls to the ground in grief.

Surrounded by the cold and warm structures that create no absolute.

But to signify once again the wretchedness of this long gone chapter.

Expressions of Loss

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By: Rhonda Nemri

The sadness that is exuded. The straight face that is expressed.

Expressions of loss and discomfort. Weakness is not portrayed, but is a reaction to the unfortunate past, that must be accepted.

Cringing reality, in which is a glimpse of darkness in search of light, and comfort.

The salty waters come rushing down the soft warm apples. Lost in the depths of life. Lost in the thoughts of mind.

Just to touch the flesh of love, is a wanting that won’t be received, but shall be done in deep imaginations.

A smile is seen for a moment, but is lost quickly as the feelings of sorrow is remembered.

The skies of light and clearness as the rays beaming on my skin, deep down in my pores. A remembrance of closeness that brings one at ease.

Strength is within, but sadness as well. The exterior portrays the interior, for true happiness cannot be apparent until true acceptance.

In Loving Memory of My Father: Rest in Peace July 26 1960- June 8 2013

A Desired Freedom For The Oppressed

By Rhonda Nemri

Passing that moment in my life that tries so hard to bring the hurt to me for my wants.

Standing still looking around fighting to see the freedom I have been longing for.

You stand there over me with your hurtful words, and your abusive sentiments that you call love. This is your victory.

I am trembling in hurt, and all there is, is myself that keeps me going in this life.

The freedom that I shall see is none other than the ability to speak, the ability to be heard, and the ability to decide my destiny without any faults.

Oh how you choose my weakness for your happiness. You have toyed with me like a child, yet I am not. You have toyed with me as if I am helpless, and not full of life, yet there is life to be seen. Oh how the oppression of my life has put me in a longing for this freedom that I’ve tried to receive.

I struggle to be prosperous in this wretched life, but all that prosperity is, is for me to be submissive in your eyes. I shall hope to live the life I long for, but due to your loss of compassion, and your loss of love for life, you have kept me shielded. You have tormented me in your moments of despair, because despair is all you feel.

Oh how the oppression of my life has put me in a longing for this freedom that I’ve tried to receive. I shall see the oppression as a piece of my life to dismiss. For I shall not let the actions of your abuse destroy me.

Oh how I tremble in hurt, and all you see is anguish.

Oh how I tremble in hurt and all you do is despise me.

Oh how I tremble in sufferings and all you do is stand above me and slash at the wounds I never longed for.

Oh how the oppressions of my life has put me in a longing for this freedom that I’ve tried to receive. I shall see the oppression as a piece of my life to dismiss.  I shall not let the actions of your abuse destroy me.

I plea for a better tomorrow, but all I have to live for is today. For I shall always remember the unsubtly words you threw at me while I curled up in my thoughts of loss.

Strong Surface

The strength of the ground
that holds me up to keep me
standing.

For I shall use the ground to keep me walking, and
running for more.

I shall not ignore the given, but use it wisely
So I can fulfill my need of life, and its givings.

If I have no light, I have no vision to see the ground
that travels far distances and long walks.

For this makes me unknown of the givings, that makes me want,
that makes me see the creation of a hard surface to keep me strong.

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