Stranger Paths

Today marks the first day of my book being LIVE!

Stranger Paths, The Magic in The Madness Poetry Collection Paper back can now be ordered on Amazon ! I am beyond excited!!!

Click Here for to be linked to Amazon

I designed the cover using Photoshop and a photograph I had taken on a beautiful foggy winter day. Used KDP to self publish and here we are!

If you have any questions about self publishing, do not hesitate to ask!

This book is 10 years in the making, maybe longer.

Starting from the Iraq war and my childhood, to moving to America and living the best life I could.

It is a spiritual journey about war, hope, and inspiration.

Reviews so far describe it as:

To list a few

I am overwhelmed with community support and so grateful to be a part of this world.

A world where an Iraqi woman can have a voice. This is so much bigger than a book being published!

I usually use Google maps to get around! In my adult life, I don’t need much direction anymore. But of course, growing up, my parents were my big directors. These days, I follow procedures and policies in my work.

Fav Holidays. Christmas now, Eid Al Adha back in the day

What is your favorite holiday? Why is it your favorite?

Eid Al Adha during my childhood in Iraq meant no school for FOUR days! The best part was that mom didn’t work either. Dad would wake us up too early to go visit his parents and his side of the family in a town nearby. We would eat, get new clothes, receive money and gifts from adults, and have a great time.

Christmas replaced that now that we live in America. I like to buy matching pjs for me, my sisters, nieces, and my son. Getting gifts might not be the favorite part. I just enjoy family time and days with no work or school.

Camping memory

Have you ever been camping?

On the beach in a tent too small for nine broke students. And again in Bonnaroo in hot rainy July days. Memories my old self left me with. Memories I’m glad I made.

Older, I’m now uninterested in the idea and prefer a controlled environment for sleep.

Growth

The girl missed seeing
The creatures hiding in the brush
And the song they sang
When all else was hush
But the girl, a woman now
Replaced fun with a crown
And bare feet
With shoes too tight
The girl, in the woman
Looks on in the dark night
Hoping to see them again

Scars

He counted the moles covering her skin
As he brushed away the cloth that hid what’s within
And for once
She did not feel the shame
Of scars she cared not name

Enough

She admired the bird flying free
The rooted tree
Yet she knew she wouldn’t want to be
Anything other than herself
To her
She was just enough

Perception

They mistook ignorance for courage

A child chasing fires thinking they
were fireflies

Innocence of a hand that’s never been burned

One that hasn’t learned that everything dies

Soul

The world is ending

Can’t you tell

They stole her sun

They dried her well

The moon is lonely

The days are dark

And I am watching

A tiny spark

Daring to call itself a flame

You know it by a different name

Pyre

There were ugly things crawling in her reality
Nightmares becoming a background noise
She turned a blind eye to so many
And became blind all at once
As the pyre lit
She stood thankful for its warmth

Ballerina

She lacked a sewing kit
To piece herself back together
The threads ran free
She looked for a lost tether
As she unraveled
She knew She might get lost
And what another move could cost
She spun
Until she vanished in thin air
The ballerina could no longer care
About what tied her to this realm
And she set herself free
From all of them
Of threads too thin and shoes too tight

The ballerina still dances through the night

On a stage of her own making