5:30am

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A finger dips into the water.

Ripples form rings as wide as the oldest tree.

The morning air tastes like

magic, as if a heavy sigh would be enough

to knock the world upside down. A boy

wraps his arms around his sun tanned knees.

Lily pad eyes peer out from under a waterfall of curls;

he lets his hair fall over his face, hiding

under the spell of dawn.

He wonders at the colours of

God’s crayon box.

The boy knows that the best shades are saved

for sunrise. The sun comes like a splatter.

The yellows, reds, oranges and pinks

seem to mix with every other colour he can

imagine. Absentmindedly, he twirls

a piece of grass between two sandy palms.

Eyes on the sky, he tucks these colours into the paint set

he keeps in an often unused corner of his mind.

A woman comes,

she calls his name and tugs him away.

She doesn’t care about the colours; she doesn’t know how

he craves the vibrancy of morning.

Morning is when the seconds drag more slowly

than his feet.

Morning is when the day is heavy

with surprise and potential.

In the morning, at dawn, no one

tells him he has to

talk.

 

Grateful

Sometimes at night I like to think about all the things I am grateful for. The list often quickly becomes longer than I had expected.

I think it’s normally really easy to get caught up in the bad in life or the struggles we face. We focus more on what we don’t have than on the things we do and more on the things we want than on the needs that have already been fulfilled without our even having to ask. Stopping for just a few minutes to record the little things in life that make me happy and grateful is one of the easiest ways to keep myself looking at the positive and to remind myself how truly blessed I am.  Here are the things that I am grateful for tonight.

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– Laughter. The kind that makes your eyes water and your belly hurt, the kind you can’t stop or control. Best when accompanied by good friends.

– A warm bed, a home. To me, it seems normal and expected. Reminding myself that it is a privilege and not a given is important.

Warm spring rain. All rain is good, but this kind is special. It smells like new beginnings.

Tea. Need I say more?

-A God who loves me despite all my faults. I am the farthest person from perfect that I know but I am blessed enough to serve a God that looks past that and loves me unconditionally either way.

Access to healthcare. The dentist terrifies me but having untreated cavities sounds worse. Medicine may taste bad but I am so beyond lucky to have it when I need it.

-Peace. Both in my heart and in my country

-Poetry. Beauty expressed in words is my favourite

– Community. I am part of a church family that supports me, a school with more spirit than we know what to do with and I have world class friends and family members. What more could I want?

– Dreams. I mean this in two senses. One, who doesn’t like a fantastical sleep full of adventure and intrigue? It’s like a movie in your head! Also, dreams and vision for my future. It’s fun having things to look forward to and to aim for.

– Quiet time alone. Yes, I am an extrovert. Yes, I like to be alone in the silence sometimes!

– Thought provoking conversation. Let’s talk about life and have debates about complicated topics. I’ll learn and maybe, I’ll teach you too.

– Singing. In the shower or in the car, I will belt it out whether it sounds good or not. God gives us so many opportunities to choose joy everyday and music just makes my soul sing…so obviously I have to actually sing.

-Colours. How can you look at a tiny flower in bloom or the blue of the sky and not feel lucky to be alive and in such a vibrant and colourful world?

Honestly, this list could go on and on and on. There are so many things in my life that I feel so blessed to have. Are some of these trivial? Yep. But I’m choosing to try and find joy in even the smallest aspects of my life. Once you start looking, you may find you’ll never stop finding blessings in disguise.

No idea if this was of any interest to anyone other than myself but, c’est la vie right?

-Until next time, Sam

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Monday Morning

This poem was inspired by a TED talk given by Shabana Basij- Rasikh filmed at TEDxWomen

MONDAY MORNING

It’s Monday morning. My alarm clock crackles to life, filled with static it begins to play the latest pop hit. My eyes open. Okay, one eye opens. I squint at the numbers, shining much too bright, much too early. It’s 6:52am, if I don’t get up I’ll be late for school. I hit snooze and roll over.

It’s Monday morning and in Afghanistan, a girl who looks nothing like me opens her eyes. She needs no alarm; she rises with the sun and starts to get ready. She doesn’t want to be late for school.

The radio clicks on again, it’s 7:17, I’m definitely going to be late. I roll out of bed, throw on my uniform and glare at my reflection in the mirror. It’s Monday morning and I’m not “feeling” school today.

She wraps a scarf around her head, letting only her eyes peek out. You can’t see underneath but, she’s smiling. It’s Monday morning and her fingers are crossed that today she can go to school. Last week it was cancelled; she’s not sure why.

Mom drives me to school and I half listen to her lecture about not missing the bus, half wonder if I’ll be able to get away with a nap in English class. It’s Monday morning, I’m too tired to even consider trying to do any work.

She is led to school by her little sister…or little brother depending on who’s asking. She can’t leave the house without a male escort; this way they can both go to school. It’s Monday morning and they take a different route than last time, avoiding suspicion.

I arrive in first period, find my classroom in the long hallway, sit down with 20 other students. I barely hear the lesson and chat through the work period. It’s Monday morning and even the teacher doesn’t really care. I count the hours until I can go home

She arrives at a one room house, sits down with 80 other girls, each of who know that what they are doing is forbidden. She keeps both eyes on the teacher but one ear towards the door. It’ Monday morning and whispers are flying that their secret is out. She stays because she wants to learn how to solve the math equation on the board.

The other girl and I go through our day, same earth, different worlds.

The worst part of my day is when the café is out of chicken salad wraps. The worst part of hers is when the soldier enters the room. I complain to my friend while eating pasta instead. He puts a gun to her head. I mutter “School makes me want to die”. He pulls the trigger.

She just wanted to learn to solve the math equation on the board.

I won’t hear about her on the news, no one will know she’s gone, she’s just one Afghan girl. But if I did, if I saw her face maybe I wouldn’t say she looks nothing like me. Maybe I would see the sparkle in her eyes and know that we both love to debate, love to sing, love people. Maybe, maybe not. But I won’t know because I won’t see her. And I won’t know that she’s gone. I won’t know that she died for something I take for granted.

It’s Monday morning. The other girl is gone. I am still here, wishing I weren’t. A girl who looks nothing like me was still just a girl. She just wanted to learn how to solve the math equation on the board.

Tomorrow is Tuesday morning. I will get up and moan about school again, she won’t get up at all.