Fady In My Life

A poem Dedicated to Fady Joudah and Naomi Shahab Nye He was standing there, in that library meeting hall. I could see only his back side. A nice blue colored shirt, with a nice-looking skin with a lot of attitudes, in obvious subtility. And I am still thinking of him, with a stupid mind, in utter stupidity! And then he saw me. Or one must say, that he was able to locate me. A moment ago, I was hugging Naomi, a student of creative writing class. She is now sitting with me, right beside me. I did not bring my water bottle. Naomi had her water bottle, right in front of her. She was asking me, “Are you ready for your poem?” I was ready. I had a printed page ready to be recited. I was deciphering my accountability within the last two years. Some new poems, and a whole lot of prescribed medicines. Really a whole lot of medicines. Color coated sugary treats in taming the pains of ongoing beating hearts. I was ready. I had my poem. The title of the poem was “Beautiful Sadness.” I was waiting in a library meeting hall. I had Fady, standing in front of me. With a nice looking blue colored shirt, with a nice-looking skin, and with a whole lot of attitudes, in subtility. And Naomi was asking me softly, “I had two poems. One is an angry poem and the other one is a bit sad. I do not know which one I should recite.” I wanted to paint something. I wanted to clean something. And I was gazing at Naomi’s water bottle, Naomi’s own bottle.