Lamenting

An inability to work or function from an excessive need to be embraced.

A missing that grows by the day, instead of diminishing. 

الشمّة والضمّة

يا خَيتي 

يا بَيتي 

What is a mama... 

How can it be undone. 

Take that away from me please, the cancer that's eating me up for years on end. 

To call "mama" is to say a little prayer. To long for what is there for you to receive abundantly, only just when you wish and desire. No conditions, no questions, just a flood, of whatever your heart need and desires.

Comfort, support, ears to listen, shoulder to cry on, food for your belly, treats and musings. Connecting, and celebrating this existence and that dynamic. It's a coincidence but nothing is random really. A celebration of this brief visit. Teach and learn, heal and grow, give and receive. 

That's how it was meant to be anyway... 

Until they intoxicated the soil, pulled out the roots, cut out the blossoms, chopped off the new sprouts, shake away all the leaves. 

They only ought to have burned the whole thing down, then the lamenting would've stopped too... 

To kill, to hate, to attack. The other as the other as the other. The devil is sneeky and mighty, so long as nobody pays attention. Nobody's paying attention. Ego is king. Hurt the ego and you're the enemy. Demons activated. Evil is chief. 

To love and to nurse and to hold. To love and to give as only a river, from source to the ocean, nothing to take personal, nothing to keep for oneself. A flow and a flood and abundance, of only the cleanest ever cleansing living water...

But they chose the lake.