My man

Some friends asked me about how my man shall be? So this was my answer a few years ago... It has not changed much... Only my outlook on life has become more positive... I would add... Sharing laughter, wit and beautiful moments to make it all worthwhile!

My man shall know the fear and respect of god,
My man shall say his opinion, and not always nod.
My man shall have deep and very sincere eyes
He shall be there for me and never tell me lies
He shall understand and not be too judgmental
His courage and patience should be monumental
My man shall have values and morals above all
I expect him to hold me tight and break my fall
My man should have within him a lot of humor
And not be ready to let go of US just for a rumor
If I start crying, I want him to wipe my tears
And just be there to help me get over my fears
I want my man to be proud, nice and mature
I want to live with him and always feel secure
I want him to hug me back and show me passion
And have mercy on others and also compassion
I want him not necessarily to talk at bad times
Just hold my hands and keep looking into my eyes
I want him to get along with the ones I care for
And know that love is what you gotta stand for
I simply want him to be himself when I'm there
And sometimes be US if I'm gone elsewhere
I also want him to be truthful and have a big heart
And promise me that under love we'll never part...

Shining Morocco

An old man in his Jellaba*, in his arms holding his grandchild,
Walking under a blazing sun, springtime, so warm, yet mild.
They reminisce about the terrorist acts of religion bashing bigots,
Who under false claims aim to seize powers no democracy allots.
Acting with indifference to the religious teachings they preach,
Filled with envy, exploiting poverty, hatred is what they teach.
The man looks at the young lad with eyes full of tenderness,
Tells him of old times people’s hearts were filled with kindness.
A tear escapes his eye as he tells the child about laughter,
About a beautiful Morocco whose children loved one another.
Times have changed; intolerance found its way to the hearts
Of those who aim at the soul of Morocco with poisonous darts.
The child cannot comprehend how such anger can exist
Why terrorists driven against their people; with the devil enlist
The land of his ancestors he would like to defend and uphold,
Against those extremists whose hearts have grown so cold.
The elder evokes memories of his own long forgotten childhood
When people of all walks of life did not fear for their livelihood.
He lost a son to the first attacks that took from his heart a piece.
Truly, you can bomb the world into pieces but not into peace.
He talks to his orphan grandchild about tolerance and love
Two concepts we forget; yet we long to find and often speak of
“Son”, he says, “learn to love others and accept their differences,
The way to harmony lies within you, do not forego your chances”
A wrinkled smile lies in the corner of his mouth; he’s thoughtful
He holds such strong love for the next generation; so he’s hopeful
He wants his grandchild to learn from life and be educated
He also wishes that his granddaughters will be emancipated.
With a weak voice, he says some prayers for you and me,
Hoping for a better future for Morocco, shining endlessly!

Zainabest


*: Jellaba is a Moroccan attire. Just FYI for my Non Moroccan friends who may not be familiar with it. Check picture.

Moroccan women

This goes out to some men who've thought less of a woman because she's Moroccan...

Since when does Moroccan rhyme with sleazy?
With your corrupt minds you’ve often called us easy?
Just because of our attire, you choose to judge,
Keep on messing, we simply won’t hold a grudge
We are proud and confident in our unique identity,
Wonderful mothers, wives, sisters with integrity,
Professors, scientists, doctors, we’re accomplished,
Envy us; it’s more than what you would have wished!
Tolerant, we love our differences and embrace them,
Muslims and Jews, we still sing the same anthem.
You dare put us down because of your own fear,
Seeing such strong women makes you disappear
Behind your oil money and presumptions you hide
Claiming Arabic belonging and a fake sense of pride
Arabs, Moors, Berbers, Moroccans stand united
Our delight in who we are will never be defeated.
You cast heresy on us for being strong and different
Yet, you’re so scared of our refusal and dissent.
We walk tall, unaware of your miserable words,
Remember, we are smarter without being nerds.
You want to conquer us with your oppressiveness
Find yourselves confused, your feelings are a mess
Beauty over beauty, wit and the desire to please,
The crushed fantasies of yours you seek to appease.
Not our women, we’re too good for even all your riches,
If a few succumb, they’re the fruit of what poverty teaches
You preach correct morals yet you overlook your failings
Show much arrogance and disgrace in your dealings.
Know that Moroccan women are beyond and above you
Look elsewhere, this is my piece of advice to you.

Zainabest