The power of words…

One word can either make you or break you, while actions speak a thousand words sometimes one single word can push the envelope and entice you to do what no action alone can make you achieve ; when we are feeling down and low a kind word can lift our spirits up and can set in motion a glorious act.

Life is all about the rise and fall, the never ending tides of life always throws us to rocks and we get hurt as a result or it might softly lands us to the shore and during all that processing we endure the encouragement of our loved ones can give us the stamina and the ability to endure the hard times and enjoy the good times.

When misfortunes strike us with an iron hand it is only the soft touch of the hand of those who love us that can melt the iron and set us free, sometimes we say horrible words that can damage the souls of those around us and can shatter their self image into bits and pieces that would be impossible to pick up again without getting our hands cut and thus they bleed..

When we fall into the dark whole of failure or despair the awful words we hear can dig that pit deeper and deeper instead of bridging it with soul feeding words that can charge our will power and give us the wings we need to soar high above that hole and fly to reach the skies…

Nothing grand has ever been achieved without the power of inspirational words and a dynamite speech can blow up all the obstacles we may find ourselves encountering …

Understand that your words have the supremacy to make miracles or destroy powers and empires, do not take what you utter lightly for what you say can be a seed that you can shower and water to blossom into a marvelous garden of miracles of great deeds and it can build up towers and castles that nothing or no one can ever reach to tear down …

Be gentle and beware for a word once uttered can never be taken back, make your words pain killers and not bullets that can pierce the heart of life and bring death upon your very alive being…

Always seek to understand and never to judge, always be tender and make your words kind for the warmth they bring can melt ice and they can be the very reason of a magnificent act that can moist the dry lands life takes us to , with kindness we can ease the cruelty of life ‘s incidents and they can make someone go from a zero to a hero in the same way that harsh words can assassin and harden the hero’s heart and throws him into the abyss of doubt and self sabotage …

Always leave traces of a superior being when you address others, never walk in someone’s life and leave behind ruins of what could have been a garden of success and victory, be a disciple of kindness never let yourself become a soldier of dreadful and awful lexis, it is what you can pass on to your loved ones never be the vampire that sucks energy, will power and life out of their existence…

You choose your words very carefully every time you open your mouth, either you will speak jewels or you will converse negativity and devastation, it is your call, you can either construct or destruct …

Lina H Hanna…

A suspended ecstasy

A delayed pleasure , a fixed moment of euphoria , a delight put on hold, is what a belated joy feels like when the five senses undergo mania and passion… A new birth in the womb of death , an instant fatality that recreates our souls and reinvents our fervor.

Jubilation of an eternity lived in a blink of an eye when the heat of yearn and hunger melts our hearts of steel and evaporates our defensive mechanism to the flood and overflow of intense sensation that blow up our being and sweep us off our feet.

The body shivers and trembles of craving more and obtaining less, it is the sweet torture of having but not feeling saturated and drenched but rather more famished with every bite we take on from the food of our passionate devour banquet.

That state of interruption of desire in order to keep it from feeding up to its decease, we want that fire to remain burning by nourishing it non stop so it keeps igniting , we want to stop the volacano from erupting so that we can enjoy the built up lava bursting inside of us… the utter point of exhilaration where we maintain and keep that effervascent boiling rush of andrenaline ripping open our veins and increasing our insatiable appetite for staying on that edge line of pleasure and pain , of being unconscious of how high we are feeling, we want to preserve the middle point where there is no end, no climax , only highlighted concentrated forceful powerful excitement…

Not yet in heaven , closer to hell , enjoying the heat of a frozen instant , a captured elusive moment that we hold hostage to extort time so that we may manipulate it and tame its wild nature for our advantage; nothing can make us soar so high as pushing back what wants to come ahead in front of us, but how long can we tolarate standing on the border before we feel the urge to cross over ? how strong is our stamina to stand on the cliff without having the need to just jump and fall down?

We all wish that time can stop when we are flying on the wings of thrill and passion but we all have to endure the landing of the desire bird on the land of reality , all we can ever hope for is a safe landing, without bruises of having to stand on the terra firma after we freely roamed the satisfaction terrain but do not despair there is always another train to catch , be prepared for the agony and the ecstasy.

Lina Hanna Hanna

When demons dance inside my mind

Dark thoughts, black visions, tainted dreams are what eats me up as I cross the muddy rivers of my soul, every scar I bear bleeds open again, the tomb of my buried sorrows are unlocked again, it seems my dim memories are mummified when they should be decayed and decomposed; why won’t they just die and rot and cease to be? What keeps them well preserved while deceased? Is it me who won’t let them or am I forever doomed to have the marks of every demon that wounded my soul?

How I can escape my mind? How can I close the eye of my heart to the dreadful images that keeps on playing nonstop in the screen of my awareness? How can I shut down the screaming voices of every broken wish and every murdered desire as they shout at my core and echo inside my deserted being?

Oh the agony I feel once I am inside the blazes of my inferno, the heat burns the softness of my skin, the turbulence and anxiety I experience as I see the dance of my demons feeding from my despair and laughing at my tears, enjoying my cries and growing stronger with every dying laughter and every sorrowful joy I give up when I am in the darker side of myself.

These demons are nothing but my surrender and my fall; they are nothing but the death of hope inside of me, they are as strong as my weaknesses and they get frail as I grow powerful, they are my blindness to what is beyond the twilight and the sunset, they are my fears, my doubts, my insecurities and everything that threatens the safety of the life I want to lead.

They dance to the sad tunes of every loss I endured, they dance to the melodies of a heartache I suffer from, they dance to the sound of my weeping dreams that are fighting to be, and they dance and dance and dance hysterically until my mind becomes so weary and I seek salvation in all the narcotics and sedatives I am hooked on , sometimes I find refuge in mother nature, other times in music and arts, I escape inside my imagination where things are how I want them to be , where it is me who chooses and not feel the bruises as I hurt myself each time I try to slam down the many barriers that holds me a captive in my own war against myself…

The battle is fierce but I have to stand up for myself and fight for my peace of mind, I have to keep my flame from burning out , I have to sustain it , I never will lose my spark no matter how long I stay In the dark , I will build my own victory arc ; I will change the music of lamentation to a masterpiece my fingers play in the harp of a new dawn , of a new light and a new glow knowing that all the demons in the world cannot subdue my strengths and kill my fervor and love for life and happiness… and so when the music changes so does the dance…

Lina hanna Hanna

The Old versus the New

The old days, the old friends, the old way of life, the old sayings are all part of our new current days and although we all aspire for what is new, for what is fresh, the bug of the old times always bites our neck so we feel nostalgic to that distant memory, that far away occurrence that was once our joy and we look for it in the core of the up-to-the-minute that we live, we are always pulled by the strings that root us to our past …

We all want the stability, we work our entire lives to establish that familiar ground and that stable status, but yet we always find ourselves looking for what is novel and original to validate the old that we dwell within… and so we go back and forth to and towards the yet to become after visiting what used to be our playground…

We all hear the expression back in the days everything was different, it was all better than in these days where all the new technology and the easier way of life cannot replace or kill the spirit of the ancient, the soul of what is authentic and simple, where people who gathered around just to talk and make bonds with each other ; unfortunately with all the massive ways of communication nowadays people speak more and say less , they are connected through cold machines rather than hot links that unite them in a common ground where they can meet and exchange thoughts and dreams , the very new that was created to bring them together now it is setting them apart…

The very invention that is used to decrease distance is increasing the spaces between the closed persons ever… who do we blame? Do we charge the invention or the misuse of it? Aren’t we all responsible for making the gap that separates us from each other rather than bridging that crack?

All what is new is meant to make our life effortless but there is always an effort to make, an extra mile to go, if there is no difficulty how can we credit ourselves to making things better?

The new add a zest a flavor to the everyday platter of life but it never takes its place, it just stirs our leanings and teaches us more about the value of what is old, and it is always nice to renew our state of being but we can do that not by changing the scenes but by looking at the same old images and faces and places with new eyes, with singularity , with attention to details , how many times do we pass by the same setting without really discerning and distinguishing the uncommon aspect of what is common and seeing the ordinary in an extraordinary way?

Always have your arms open for what is new but never close your heart and throw away the old, use the new to wash out the dust of the years away and do everything you do whether old or now in good positive way…

Lina Hanna Hanna

نزاع وإنتزاع

ألم يعتصر قلبي، شجن يجتاح كياني ، غضب وسأم من وضدٌ الوجود، ثورة ورفض لحالة

الحضور الغائب ، روحي لا ترتاح ، يؤرٌقها عذاب الفراق فلا تستكين ولا

تهدأ ، ألعن جميع المهدٌئات والمسكٌنات فهي أعجز من أن تروٌض وتخضع توقي واشتياقي لمن عن دنياي قد غاب وتركني لمخالب الحاضر بغير حضوره ، تغرز أظافرها في لحمي وتدميني لأنزف أجمل اللحظات التي تحوٌلت إلى عذابات ومعاناة ...

آه كم اشتاق إليك ، تتمزٌق نفسي ، صوتي أصبح نواح ومنزل للوعة الإنفصال عن من به أنا دائمة الإتصال...جسدي أصبح جسد خاوٍ هو مقبرة لقلبٍ قد مات من شدٌة النٌزاع ...

يعذٌبني بعدك عني ويجعلني مهاجرة في وطني ، غريبة عن ذاتي، عدوٌة لأصدقائي ، فكل شخص أراه يذكٌرني بأني محرومة من لقياك فأبحث عنك في كل رجل أراه ولا أراه ... لقد ثملت من وجعي وحاجتي إليك ، إلى عينيك ، إلى يديك، جسدي أمسى معدن صدئ يشهد على فعل الزمان وعجز أي مكان أو إنسان أن يعيد لمعان ووميض إنعكاس نورك في مرايا وزاويا الذات ... ظلمة حالكة ، وعيون فارغة تشتاق أن تمتلئ وتقتات من مأدبة عشقك ومن خمرة لمساتك ومن سحر همساتك ...

آه كم اتمنٌى لو أكون بين ذراعيك للحظة واحدة فقط مجدداً ، كم أشتهي أن أضيع داخل عالمك، كم ارغب بضمٌك وشمٌك واستنشاق عطرك لأسكر ... أريد أن أنام ليأخذني جنٌ الغفو بعيداً عن جنوني وعن هواجسي ، أريد أن أتحرٌر منك ، أريد أن امحي كل ذكرى جمعتنا لتفصل بيننا وتلطٌخ يدينا بدماء البعد والشعوذة ...

أكرهك وألعن ادماني عليك ، أريد أن اغسل ذاكرتي في مجرى نهر النسيان ولكنك أصبحت عقلي ومعتقلي ، انٌي أعاني منالإرهاق لكثرة رغبتي بك ، لقد إستنزفني الشوق وأضناني الإنتظار على مرفأ الأيام ، دائماً عيناي صوب الأفق البعيد علٌى سفينتي تصل وعلى متنها أنت وقوافلك فتأتيني بشياطين المسافات التي سكنتني منذ أن غاب من أغلق الباب وأغفل نافذة الذاكرة ليزيد العذاب ...

أعيش من أجل ذاك اليوم الذي تأخذني بين ذراعيك ، أعيش من أجل اللحظة التي تلتقي الشفتين لتروي يبس الحرمان فتكون قبلاتها ينبوع ومصدر الحياة حيث غزت جنود الممات ...

فهل سأشعر بحرارة شغفك مرةً أخرى أم محكوم عليٌ بالمنفى بعيداً عن بساتين حبك داخل كهفي حيث لا شيء سوى أنا والذكريات بما كان يوماً وقد فات وترك الذات تلتطم وتتخبٌط بأوجاعها وترقص على إيقاع أنينها الداخليٌ رقصة الموت في رحم الحياة؟

لينا حنا حنا

هل حقٌاً كنا؟

مررت بسمائي كمذنٌب متوهٌج بشعلةٍ من نار ونور جعلتني أحترق وأدور ، أهدأ

وأثور... استعرض شريط ذكريات جمعتنا وكوتنا في أتون الشغف المجنون في براري الهيام والإلتحام إلى حد الإلتهام، أشعر بلمساتك تجتاح جلدي فتنزف ذاكرتي بدماء رغبات قتلت على يديك بعد أن ولدت بين ذراعيك فتسأل نفسي نفسها كيف تستحيل إلى سفٌاح بعد أن كنت أنت الملاك ؟ لم أكن أعرف أن قبلاتك هلاك وادماني عليك فتٌاك...

لم أعلم عندها كم كانت قصيرة لحظات الحياة مع أني شعرت بأبدية من الثٌمالة وترنٌح ودوار الذات وتحرٌرها من قيود ربطتها حول عنقها واقعية خالية من أسمى الملذٌات ...

أعميت بصري وبصيرتي معاً ، فلم اكن أرى أو أبصر سواك ، كنت أتنفٌسك واتنشٌق أريج عطرك الجهنٌمي الممزوج برائحة عرقك ورحيقك وأهيم مخدٌرة الحواس ، كنت في حالة انخطاف وإنبعاث من موت قد تركني جثٌة حيٌة موجودة في صقيع قبور المشاعر

والأحاسيس... كنت تأخذني بعيداً عن ذاتي وتعيد الدفء والحرارة إلى جسدي فيتحوٌل إلى مهرجان من المفرقعات والأحلام ....

كنت وكنت ولكنك لم تعد ما كنته ، بل اختفيت في ضباب الأيام وتركت عقارب الساعات تلسعك وتسمٌم قلبك بحمٌى الغيرة وحب

الإمتلاك ...

افكر بك ، أسمع همساتك المجنونة ، ما زلت أسمع دقٌات قلبك التي لطالما رقصنا على ايقاعها أجمل الرقصات وتمايلت أجسادنا على هلوسات وهذيان كلمات لم تقال غير أنها قيلت من دون كلام ... ولكني الأن أنصت إلى صدى صوتٍ ناءٍ بعيد وأسأل نفسي هل حقاً كنا سوياً ؟ ألم يمحي الزمن ما قد دوٌنه بقلمه يوماً؟ هل كان يعلم مسبقاً أنه يكتب ما سيمحي لاحقاً؟

هل كنت حقاً حبيب أيها الغريب؟ هل حقاً جمعتنا الأيام أم أنك كنت سراباً وهماً في فكري؟ كيف تموت وأنت لا تزال حيٌاً ترزق في الوجود الغير موجودةٌ أنا فيه؟ كيف نتنفٌس من هواء واحد ،كيف تشرق علينا شمس واحدة دون أن نشعر بأشعتها معاً؟ كيف تكمل الطريق دون أن نلتقي على جادٌة الأحلام المتكسٌرة ؟ كيف تمضي قدماً دون أن نكون قدماً واحدة ؟

كيف يمكن أن تصطدم عيناك بعيني وتهرب العيون من عيون كانت تهرب اليها؟ آه ما أغرب القلوب البشريٌة فهي لا تبشٌر ولا تنذر دائماً بل تشعر بالخطر وتخدع البشر ....

لينا حنا حنا

To Be a Man

What is it to be a Man? Macho does not prove mucho , a man is not his muscles nor his physical strengths, a man is as big as his brain muscles and his heart muscles, a man is a cause he believes and fights for, a man is an attitude , a man is the one who does not mind to merge the feminine side in him with the masculine side , he is the one who is in the arena , who does not protest to have his face in the mud and in the gutter in order to have his own paradise .

A man is not what is possesses but rather what he is made of , he is as rich when deprived from all his belongings, he makes a statement just by being himself, he rejoices in his intellectual wealth and finds pleasure in his emotional capacity to portray and expresses his feelings free from all restraints of traditions.

A man pushes his woman to the heights of her potentials and be the cause of her success, a man is not threaten by the achievements of a woman nor feel belittled by her success, but rather enjoys the flight with her and doubles her joy by his company and his sense of appreciation.

A man speaks his mind out loud he says it how he sees it now how others expect him to draw it, he is the heart of a lion, the ruse of a fox and the eye of an eagle who discerns and sees even the smallest creatures, he is the hunter but not for preys so he can feel his power, but he is the seeker of opportunities and the catcher of dreams to turn them into realities.

A man is his word, because that word is his own signature and without a signature what are we? We are nothing , only annihilated beings; a man is powerful not lover of power, a man is magician who turns bitter into sweet, who rises up to the challenges of life and knowing how to take the turns that life imposes on him somewhere along the road to his enchanted castle.

A man is not afraid of rejection, a man does not manipulate woman and feeds from their weaknesses, and a man is a protector of human rights and a defender of equality in rights and obligations in genders, a man gives value and do not go after the price tag, a man knows how to treat a woman and make her feel more feminine, a man provides not only material presents but also has a generous presence.

He is capable of giving fragments of himself, not only from what he owns, but never holds back on who he is, a man is his beliefs, his battles, his statements, his actions not his gender, there is a huge gap between the name and the essence ,Names does not give the entities their qualities and their substance:) Whether a male or a female . Minds do not have genders, what is good is good; there is no feminine good or masculine bad …

A man demonstrate his manhood when he combines his words with actions, when his deeds are a proof of the man he is, when he transcends himself into a higher rank of mere human being that is satisfy to exist but who is keen and eager to live and make a change, who does not take life lightly but rather give significance to his existence by always outdoing himself and be a safe place to cry and a joyful space to laugh…

A man is not an opportunist who waits and lurks in the darkness waiting for a moment of weakness a woman falls into so he can slice her world with the knife of his deceit and charades he plays only to get what he wants rather than wanting what he afraid to have…

A man is gentleman who bartends the needs of his woman and notices what changes in her and take her hand through thick and thin, a man gives his woman her space, and defends her freedom to be who she wants to be even if that does not like it…

A man does not escape danger , he laughs in the face of peril, he is not afraid to jeopardize his whole being and gamble his world for a better world that he could gain, a man knows his merit and his self esteem in spite of what he does not hold rather than because of what he owns.

A man is that hand that does not try to grab and hold hostage but rather that open hand that welcomes the bird of paradise whenever he lands, a man is that hand that does not close its grip because he knows how sacred is the wings for a bird who lives in the sky …

A man does not hide his failures for he knows they are his later conquest, that experience is the mother of wisdom , that the same ground he falls on is the ground he leans on to stand up again…he is the corner stone not the stepping stone on the journey of life…

A man is a positive force and not a destructive force that needs weapons and wars to prove him, he is his own rod and his own gun, his power is from within and not from the outer world … a man knows himself and masters his own needs and desires, he is the will power that can turn coal to gold, he is not deprived of his determination and force but he is that very force that keeps the balance in his existence…

A man speaks less and does more, a man explores and enjoys the change when it occurs , a man always find a way to make it happen, a man speaks of the solution rather than the problems and the excuses, a man does not stop for anything or anyone that goes against his grail ..

A man is his convictions and he never negotiate over his duties and his privileges, he takes but he also gives in return …

A man does not demand love but knows how to take it, a man compels you to respect him even if you do like him …

A man holds the bull by its horns and submits it to tame it, a man will go all the way to obtain his heart’s desires, a man is the woman he appreciates and the ego he poises for his psychological equilibrium.

A man is his voice and his voice turns into a scream, we cannot but listen and admire, a man speaks in his silence and he is more eloquent with few sincere words than a hundred cunning words…

Lina Hanna Hanna