Within the realm of dreams

Forces loyal to Syria's President Bashar Assad hold their weapon as they stand near a tank in Tel Hasel, Aleppo province after capturing it from rebels November 15, 2013. Photo by Reuters

Forces loyal to Syria’s President Bashar Assad hold their weapon as they stand near a tank in Tel Hasel, Aleppo province after capturing it from rebels November 15, 2013. Photo by Reuters

Mideast Syria

Damascus-26 December 2013

Removed, far beyond the reach of human touch or contact she lay dying. Her chest heaved with the sigh of her laboured breathing, while her body remained motionless in the pile of rubble surrounding her. The pain was continuous and unlike any she had ever endured before. Her breath came in short gasps as she willed herself to keep going.She knew her end was near, it would not be long now before her body would bleed out..
Her thoughts were filled with the memorable sound of laughter, the chatter of her big family and the crazy amount of noise that had always accompanied them. All of them had been scattered like dust, leaving behind nothing..

Cautiously at first but then readily, her mind wandered to him. A sigh escaped her lips as she recalled the touch of his arm securely around her shoulders. The sound of his powerful voice as he had whispered jokes in her ear. How she had blushed a bright red with the swell of happiness erupting inside her. That sense of contentment and relief, it felt so reassuring. The feelings so vivid, that none of the chaos caused by the war had been able to erase him from her memory.

But for the present she had come to accept the inevitable. A harsh reality had come to rudely interrupt her perfect life when the fighting within her home land had begun.

She had watched so powerless as the war had taken over, not only her county but the very essence of all she was, her family that completed her and the beauty of nature surrounding her, leaving chaos and destruction, rubble and human remains.

So she had chosen to continue living in the only way she knew how, in the little bubble of her thoughts,  in the fragment of her imagination and in the remembrance of her past.

The beautiful memories formed her realm of dreams and it is here where peace prevailed and all was right with the world. Her last breath escaped her and with these thoughts she set off to the next world, beyond the grasp of all ugliness..

Damascus- One of the most beautiful cities of the world, so full of life before the war

Damascus- One of the most beautiful cities of the world, so full of life before the war

Afterword: Her story, like many others I have written previously, is in relation to the wars waging around the world.She is a twenty-one year old just like me who once had a life full of hope and happiness, viciously taken from her.

Relating this is but a fickle attempt to raise awareness of the plight of children of war. The situation in Gaza (Palestine) and Syria (as well as all other countries under siege) is shocking, brutal and inhumane..The true accounts of captives there and their suffering are enough to reduce grown men to tears.

These are people just like us who have no say in what is happening to their home, innocent children with big dreams now lying dead in the streets of Aleppo and Damascus never to see those dreams through. All I ask of you wherever you are in the world is to keep these people in your prayers.

Even if you are unable to help financially, simply raising awareness about the situation is the least we can do. I have always believed that no matter how small, even the tiniest bit of effort can help make a difference.
Please keep them in your thoughts tonight. While we will be safe and warm in our blankets, there will be many just like us who will be freezing to death just across the ocean through no fault of their own.

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Please click the link below to view a short but sweet clip highlighting the third anniversary of the war in Syria on March 15, 2014.  Benskey, the famous graffiti artist has created the paintings in the video in response to the bloodshed :

#withsyria

nadia nawaz

All of you

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The ghost of my past lingers around me like the dense smoke I exhale, the shisha pipe clutched between my fingers.

The air is thick and clouded, a mist of vapour saturating it as with each breath I unfold a sequence of vivid of memories, unlocking the shadow of guilt which refuses to leave my side.

The shadow I always see in the green greying depths of your beautiful eyes..
In the clever formation of your words my mind interprets so radically..
In the dark of the night as I walk alone.

Shadows of the ghost, waiting for me to yield to their persistent nagging, always refusing to acknowledge my resolve.

How can they understand that I regret you, your very existence.. All of you.

nadia nawaz

Towards the end

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The morning suns rays filter through the blinds creating little circles of light on the bedroom floor. Somewhere in the room a person stirs, yawning away the last signs of sleepiness ready to face the new day. The sun  envelops the room in a golden glow, promising a comforting warmth. Like many things in life it is but a mere deception in the sky artfully concealing the cold winds which rage on around it. To the insider, warm and secure within their home the cold is merely another glitch in the weather,duly noted upon leaving the house.

A couple of thousand miles away, across the ocean a new dawn creeps through. Desolation and misery haunt the place and despite the clear skies, moans and whispers of grief choke the surroundings. War and terror are just the norm around here,tearing apart families and wrecking havoc. The same new day here, brings with it more reminders of the pain left to endure until night fall. Planning a future is a story of the past.

The contrast is striking between the two countries yet the seconds that tick by are identical. They share the same skies, the same moon, the same sun. Yet they live and die worlds apart from one another somehow all nearing the same end through different means..

nadia nawaz

A moment in time..

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In the darkest hour of the night he lay awake staring into the silence that enveloped him. His thoughts carried him to a place far away as his ears became accustomed to the sound of his rhythmic breathing. For him life was at a stand still, a moment in time where he lay captive. As the days dragged on and the seconds ticked by, he remained a constant in the whirl wind of activities that surrounded him. No matter how hard he tried or what he busied himself in, his mind somehow always found her.

Her… He closed his eyes as once again the very thought of her took his mind through a dizzying blur of entwining memories. Overtime she had consumed him becoming a non-detachable part of his soul making him acutely aware of his own deficiencies, as he bettered himself in a bid to win her.
As the days melted into weeks he all but drifted through, aware of the seasons as they came and went but no longer caring.

Consumed by these thoughts of her, he felt his eye lids become heavy with sleep as his dreams clouded his thoughts and he melted away into a place where they walked as one.

nadia nawaz

Endless summer nights

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In the dead silent of the night, her recollections created a web of frayed images inside her head and words poured out of her effortlessly. The stillness and loneliness of the darkness engulfed her within its vastness, wrapping itself around her in a mercilessly tight grip.

Her thoughts soared and receded unwilling to settle at a comfortable hum inside her head. Her mind clouded over and she felt himself drown, lost within the suffocating sweetness of the moment. Throughout it all one steady noise reverberated across her ears. The thud of her agitated heart as it continued to steadily beat to its own rhythm never once failing her.

Nadia Nawaz

Faraway lands, a secret paradise

Street kid in Kabul-Afghanistan © David Belluz

“Somehow, even in the worst of times, the tiniest fragments of good survive. It was the grip in which one held those fragments that counted.” ― Melina Marchetta
(Street kid in Kabul-Afghanistan) © David Belluz

Sitting in the corner of the market, on a dirty abandoned street once so full of life she closed her eyes. She had been walking for many days now, passing by ruins and dilapidated houses always in shambles, mostly unoccupied. Her journey had been long and arduous  with no destination in sight. All she saw were reminders of the atrocities committed by other men. Men who claimed to come bearing the name of peace. The reminders were painful, bringing with them memories she had long before tried to forget. They clung to her like a disease, growing in weight as the days slowly dragged on.

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The end of a beginning..

A flood of memories hit him causing him to inhale deeply. He closed his eyes as a storm of feeling threatened to overwhelm him, drowning him within their depths. Flashbacks of moments once thought of as fickle, fought through the chaos and resurfaced old feelings. Feelings and emotions he had long before buried and sealed shut, vowing never to intentionally dwell on again. It was a hard battle, one he fought everyday while constantly living in the present yet dreaming in the past.

He often wondered what it was about that year and her in particular, that had caused such a huge impact on him. He was unable to shake off the constant feeling of being haunted. Haunted by a past so beautifully perfect yet so embellished by his imagination.

How time had played him and life had tested him, ultimately moulding him into the man he had now become. He was no longer bitter. His past was something he had learnt to live with treasuring those who had been part of it all.

Somewhere through the rush of thoughts and the ache and longing of people he could no longer bear to be parted from, he lost himself in a void; empty of all emotion. He had been robbed of his chance of true happiness. He allowed himself to float through, finding contentment in the bliss of nothingness, even if but for a moment.

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Nadia Nawaz