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The writing is good. Sometimes people can be brilliant but how they explain abstract economical matters and/or financial ideas can be off putting. Just got through the intro & 1st chapter so.. Yeah... Hopefully it isn't one of those other books where ...more "
“Muslim Girlhood
I never found myself in a pink aisle.
There was no box for me
with glossy cellophane like heat
and a neat packet of instructions in six languages.
Evenings, I watched TV like a religion I moderately believed.
I watched to see how the others lived, not knowing I was the other - no laugh track in my living room, no tidy and punctual resolution waiting.
I took tests in which Jane & William had so many apples.
I fasted through birthday parties
and Christmas parties
and ate leftover tajine at plastic lunch tables,
picked at pepperoni from slices like blemishes and tried not to complain.
I prayed at the wrong times in the wrong tongue.
I hungered for Jell-O & Starburts & margarine;
could read mono- and diglycerides by five,
knew what gelatin meant, and
where it came from.”
―
I never found myself in a pink aisle.
There was no box for me
with glossy cellophane like heat
and a neat packet of instructions in six languages.
Evenings, I watched TV like a religion I moderately believed.
I watched to see how the others lived, not knowing I was the other - no laugh track in my living room, no tidy and punctual resolution waiting.
I took tests in which Jane & William had so many apples.
I fasted through birthday parties
and Christmas parties
and ate leftover tajine at plastic lunch tables,
picked at pepperoni from slices like blemishes and tried not to complain.
I prayed at the wrong times in the wrong tongue.
I hungered for Jell-O & Starburts & margarine;
could read mono- and diglycerides by five,
knew what gelatin meant, and
where it came from.”
―
“I'm too much of a romantic
to share my heart so casually.
My heart's got wings and shadows
and strength and hands.
Hands that need to be offered more consistency and vulnerability.
Retracting back into my bat cave,
your friend always,
Batman.”
―
to share my heart so casually.
My heart's got wings and shadows
and strength and hands.
Hands that need to be offered more consistency and vulnerability.
Retracting back into my bat cave,
your friend always,
Batman.”
―
“تلعثم"
تحاول الكلام ..
مثل طفل لم يعرف نارًا أكبر من عود ثقاب.
وعليه الآن ..
أن يصف غابة كاملة تحترق”
― كلمات رديئة
تحاول الكلام ..
مثل طفل لم يعرف نارًا أكبر من عود ثقاب.
وعليه الآن ..
أن يصف غابة كاملة تحترق”
― كلمات رديئة
“Loving the Hands
I could make a wardrobe
with tufts of wool
caught on thistle and bracken.
Lost - the scraps
I might have woven whole cloth.
"Come watch," the man says,
shearing sheep
with the precision of long practice,
fleece, removed all of a piece,
rolled in a neat bundle.
I've been so clumsy
with people people who've loved me.
Straddling a ewe,
the man props its head on his foot,
leans down with clippers,
each pass across the coat a caress.
His dogs, lying nearby,
tremble at every move - as I do,
loving the hands that have learned
to gentle the life beneath them.”
― Lie Down with Me: New and Selected Poems
I could make a wardrobe
with tufts of wool
caught on thistle and bracken.
Lost - the scraps
I might have woven whole cloth.
"Come watch," the man says,
shearing sheep
with the precision of long practice,
fleece, removed all of a piece,
rolled in a neat bundle.
I've been so clumsy
with people people who've loved me.
Straddling a ewe,
the man props its head on his foot,
leans down with clippers,
each pass across the coat a caress.
His dogs, lying nearby,
tremble at every move - as I do,
loving the hands that have learned
to gentle the life beneath them.”
― Lie Down with Me: New and Selected Poems
“Mary" was my mother’s mother
And my sister too.
There’s rain in the river.
There’s a river running through
To the sea around these islands,
Crying tears of sorrow and pain.
There’s rain in the river;
There’s a river in my veins.
Mary, young as we may be, you know the blood in you and me is as old as blood can be (is as old as blood can be.)
Living lines of memory drew the markings on my hands.
Ancient lines of living love are waking in this land,
Saying: “I am in the city, in the forest and the field;
I am in the bounty, come on, know me as I yield.
I am in the falcon, in the otter and the stoat;
I am in the turtle dove with nowhere left to go.
And in the moment of blind madness, as he’s pushing her away,
I am in the lover and in the ear who hears her say:
'Can we begin again? Oh baby it’s me again. I know you are so different to me but I love you just the same. I love you just the same. Love you just the same. I love you just the same.'"
Mary Ethel Ruddock, 1912 to 72,
Though we never met in flesh, now I remember you
Were warm and you were gentle; you were modest; you were kind.
A mother, wife and gran; you were a woman of your time.
Do we know your life in colour?
Do we celebrate your flame,
Remembering your offering
With a candle in your name?
Mary, young as we may be, you know the blood in you and me is as old as blood can be (is as old as blood can be).
She says:
"I am in the living;
I am in the dying too.
I am in the stillness,
Can you see me as I move?
I am in the Hawthorn, in the Apple and the Beech;
I am in the mayhem and the medicine of speech.
And in the moment of blind madness, as he’s pushing her away,
I am in the lover and in the ear who hears her say:
'Can we begin again? Oh baby it’s me again. I know you are so different to me but I love you just the same. I love you just the same. Love you just the same. I love you just the same.”
―
And my sister too.
There’s rain in the river.
There’s a river running through
To the sea around these islands,
Crying tears of sorrow and pain.
There’s rain in the river;
There’s a river in my veins.
Mary, young as we may be, you know the blood in you and me is as old as blood can be (is as old as blood can be.)
Living lines of memory drew the markings on my hands.
Ancient lines of living love are waking in this land,
Saying: “I am in the city, in the forest and the field;
I am in the bounty, come on, know me as I yield.
I am in the falcon, in the otter and the stoat;
I am in the turtle dove with nowhere left to go.
And in the moment of blind madness, as he’s pushing her away,
I am in the lover and in the ear who hears her say:
'Can we begin again? Oh baby it’s me again. I know you are so different to me but I love you just the same. I love you just the same. Love you just the same. I love you just the same.'"
Mary Ethel Ruddock, 1912 to 72,
Though we never met in flesh, now I remember you
Were warm and you were gentle; you were modest; you were kind.
A mother, wife and gran; you were a woman of your time.
Do we know your life in colour?
Do we celebrate your flame,
Remembering your offering
With a candle in your name?
Mary, young as we may be, you know the blood in you and me is as old as blood can be (is as old as blood can be).
She says:
"I am in the living;
I am in the dying too.
I am in the stillness,
Can you see me as I move?
I am in the Hawthorn, in the Apple and the Beech;
I am in the mayhem and the medicine of speech.
And in the moment of blind madness, as he’s pushing her away,
I am in the lover and in the ear who hears her say:
'Can we begin again? Oh baby it’s me again. I know you are so different to me but I love you just the same. I love you just the same. Love you just the same. I love you just the same.”
―
Reema’s 2025 Year in Books
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