poetry

Rebirth: Shifting The Focus From Refusing to Believing. {poetry}

 

For the longest part of my life, war resided in my world. I immersed myself in fighting the ugly, for I believed in the beauty.

I revolted against unfairness and bad intentions, but I achieved nothing.

It wasn’t until I learned the subtle but huge difference between revolution and rebellion that I started to see the change I was after. The whole time, I was talking about peace, yet preparing for war. I was dreaming of a Yes, yet invested in a No.

Revolution is No-based, rebellion is receptive, feminine and Yes-based. Revolution says no to the ugly, rebellion says yes to the beauty. Revolution is destructive, rebellion is creative. Both are moving energies; the difference lies in the direction.

For years, I focused on refusing what I don’t want, while I had to turn my head toward what I want and move there. Against vs pro; the difference in the approach that almost cost me my life to understand. I finally did, and I was reborn.

Rebirth

They were all around me,
willing to fix me.
They covered my cracks
with recited promises.
They convinced me that
life is supposed to be hard.
It must be your fault, they said,
for your frantic look
is not listed in our book.
Hush, they whispered,
Bleed in silence,
don’t dare to break the grid,
don’t shake the eyes open
.
My pain is to be tamed, they decided,
with another promise here
and a cushion there.
They handed me the camouflage suit
passed down through generations,
a tradition they were proud of.
When you wear it, they assured me,
all shall vanish —
the nudges, the confusion, the swollen tumors and the buried pain
.
I trusted them.
The suit wasn’t my size;
my body shrank to fit, I couldn’t breathe.
I rehearsed their words:
Life is supposed to be hard.
I looked at life through their vision
and numbed my eye.
Their sun looked different —
pale and cold, it needed a sun.
There were no swaying trees,
no ladybugs,
no sacred liquid, no luscious hives, no orbs.
I now know
where they come from.
My voice betrayed me,
or did I betray my voice?
Hands shaking, I took off the suit —
in fear or in rage, I couldn’t tell.
I ran naked,
wild and raw
towards the wilderness
where witches salute my aroma,
where silence
is the opposite of absence.
I shed tears,
burning tears,
but the many sunrises ahead
were pulling me, and I couldn’t resist the light.
I am, I am
I declared
to Existence,
celebrating the return of my voice.
I gave birth to a new star.

***

Majd Radwan is her deepest desire, and her higher self. Syrian by birth, rebel by choice, love by essence. Being a copywriter and obtaining a bachelor degree in French Literature has never defined who she really is. She takes the shape of her inner world, aspirations, laughter and the love held deep in her towards all creation. She believes that learning is a journey that never ends, and the road is her destination, where joy and wisdom unfold gradually, and bloom in the sidewalk with each step she dares to take. You could contact Majd via her blogInstagram or Facebook.

***

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