You ordered your foot soldiers on a clandestine fairytale
Through the world of humans and it yielded.
Your soul wakes with the clarity that you have a name
And you are a person — to be seen
And in your absence, to be missed.
And because you are human in the end,
When those rock bottom days hit and dump you at the lowest heaven.
I hope you take quick countdowns of inventions you are most grateful for.
On any good day, nothing beats the internet.
But here I am today, I am grateful for watermelon, for the gift of solitude.
And in Ramadan, for every time I looked forward to dusk, I was most grateful for water.
I am grateful for shoes, phones, mundane inventions like the gift of laughter,
From family, friends and lovers who remind us of our very essence.
And so, again, on the days when you cannot muster the will to be grateful[i],
I hope you find the grace to be vulnerable to ask for help because there is nothing honourable about always doing the heavy weightlifting.
So, again, I ask,
How can you not be?
*[i] A piece from my collection of short poems
