I decided to do my journal project on the structure of a typical qasidah and broke it up into the three sections to make it clear to a reader who is not familiar with Arabic poetry. While stylistically it is different, I wanted to pull some influence from Imru Al-Qays, who was an influential Arab poet of pre-Islamic times and is the author of the seven odes Al-Mu’allaqat. Typically, a qasidah is broken up into three sections. The first the nasib which is the nostalgic opening, the second the rahil which is the move away from nostalgia, and the third being the message of the poem. I wanted to write on the myth of childhood nostalgia and looking back to when times were easier and better. Typically for some, childhood memories are a place of ease and happiness with a lot more freedom of expression. I wanted to write about the myth of growing up and how I conceptualize my own nostalgia of the past while inadvertently forgetting the past while growing up. A qasidah was perfect for this as it perfectly engages in nostalgia, while in the Arab version is set in a desert with a longing of a lost love, it still allows for an understanding of this deep yearning that the poet experiences. The liminal is engaged as there is an ambivalence with moving on but still finding a way to transition to the next stage. I hope you enjoy my qasidah style poem!

The Window

The toys, the games, they are all the same

Stop, remember the youthful games

I dream of the window in my bedroom

Looking out into the future but content with the present

I do not want to forget

I miss the games at the park

I miss the backyard that is locked away

I miss waking up without worry for tomorrow

I do not want to forget

My memory fizzles but I try to hold on

I remember the fun and laughter

I remember the friends and freedom

But I have to grow up

I dream again of the window in my bedroom

I see the moonlight at full beam

It does not feel the same

The memories are all I have, fizzled

To work without a cause

Burnt out with small lapses of fun

Adulthood has its grasp

Once it grabs on it does not let go

Responsibility is real

Life is realer

Time is realer

I come back home, I feel calm

I look at the window once more

The moonlight at half beam

My memories, gone

I continue to look at the moon, tears falling as I try to remember

But I can’t, and that has to be ok

To move on is what they say

To move on is what I must do

A life now in the past

A time lost to existence

Irretrievable but I look through my window once more

I cannot see the moon but just a reflection

I am anything but everything

A past that is still present in me

Youth is unlimited