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Introduction
ENL 267 has been very different from the english classes I have taken so far. I’ve never really had the opportunity to sit down and right for pleasure. This course really changed my outlook on writing. As an English Education major, I always knew that my writing would have to be well done and thought out properly. It is more than just a couple of research papers or essays. The work I have done during the spring semester has so much meaning to it. I had the opportunity to write thoroughly about my interests, concerns, fears, and happiness. I had to write using all the creativity I have.
Writing the first two papers was easy. I have always enjoyed writing papers no matter the length. The fiction draft was a little more difficult due to the writers' block that I had frequently suffered. I changed the story in my head hundreds of times before I settled on the one I resonate to best. All in all, I enjoyed writing these papers because they gave me a glimpse of what creativity can result in.
Poems for me were very hard. I have never written a poem prior to this course. I had to re-read the instructions multiple times, watch countless youtube videos and even consult some of my friends who have a knack in poetry. I had to think long and hard about what would be a subject worth writing a poem about. Some of these things have been family, friends, summer and my home country. I noticed that what I write about leads to how good the poem is. If a subject interests me, I will give it my best and try to make it interesting for the person reading them. I have now decided to write more poems throughout my college years, in order to come back and read them as I get older and reminisce about my interests while I was still young.
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Text
The Serial Poem #5 Final Draft
Summer nights
A
As evening draws near,
Cell phones ring consistently,
People leaving one by one,
Waiting to meet up,
To let off steam.
B
You gleam on Sunday's best,
Knowing fully well it's a thursday,
The sun still scorching,
You grab the iced drink,
Get into the car, and blast to 50 Fahrenheit.
C
Arriving is the best part,
The warm sand on your bare feet, sunglasses slightly raised,
To see if you remember anyone,
You make your way along the bay,
Looking for the best spot to settle.
D
You get ready to watch the sunset,
The golden-orange clouds reflected on each wave,
You’ve been waiting to take a photograph,
A photo that will forever depict a zen summer,
One that will likely not repeat.
E
As you grow older, relaxation seems to fade,
That photograph will be something you're too busy to even look at,
Summer is not like it ever was before,
You have responsibilities and endless appointments made,
You can not go out freely on thursday as you did before.
F
As time goes on, you slowly start to regret,
You regret that sunset you did not watch with your own eyes,
Rather you used a camera lens,
You’ll start to regret that you did not take advantage of free will,
You’ll feel guilty to all those nights out you said no to,
And you become desperate for even an hour to let off steam.
0 notes
Text
The Serial Poem #5 First Draft
Summer nights
A
As evening draws near,
Cell phones ring consistently,
People leaving one by one,
Waiting to meet up,
To let off steam.
B
You gleam on Sunday's best,
Knowing fully well it's a thursday,
The sun still scorching,
You grab the iced drink,
Get into the car, and blast to 50 Fahrenheit.
C
Arriving is the best part,
The warm sand on your bare feet, sunglasses slightly raised,
To see if you remember anyone,
You make your way along the bay,
Looking for the best spot to settle.
D
You get ready to watch the sunset,
The golden orange clouds reflected on each wave,
You’ve been waiting to take a photograph,
A photo that will forever depict a zen summer,
One that will likely not repeat.
E
As you grow older, relaxation seems to fade,
That photograph will be something you're too busy to even look at,
Summer is not like it ever was before,
You have responsibilities and endless appointments made,
You can not go out freely on thursday as you did before.
F
As time goes on, you slowly start to regret,
You regret that sunset you did not watch with your own eyes,
Rather you used a camera lens,
You’ll start to regret that you did not take advantage of free will,
You’ll feel guilty to all those nights out you said no to,
And you become desperate for even an hour to let off steam.
0 notes
Text
Poem #4 Final Draft
No Rest
The scent of cigar ashes roamed the halls,
They made their way from the porch,
To the crowded salon,
Mixed with the scent of exotic spices in the kitchen,
Whiffed through the lively living area,
And eventually made their way to my spacious room.
I could not shut an eye,
Rest had no place in this city,
And to be exact,
Rest did not even belong in my home,
A night’s shut-eye is near impossible without loud distractions,
Without men cheering, women laughing, and smog lighting up every inch of the house,
But I did not mind.
The noise came with a feeling of safety and content,
The vapor that filled the room was comforting,
2 a.m. was the new 8 p.m. for my family,
And that was something too valuable to lose,
The gathering’s that took place at my house was never an invitation,
uncles, aunts, cousins, and far away family friends joined in freely,
Every night in Amman was a weekend, no matter how hard the week was.
The fumes not only filled houses, but they also filled bright street’s in every corner of the city,
It was medically unhealthy, but medicine for the soul,
The burning material brought to friends, families, and strangers altogether.
0 notes
Text
Poem #4
No rest
The scent of cigar ashes roamed the halls,
They made their way from the porch,
To the crowded salon,
Mixed with the scent of exotic spices in the kitchen,
Whiffed through the lively living area,
And eventually made their way to my spacious room.
I could not shut an eye,
Rest had no place in this city,
And to be exact,
Rest did not even belong in my home,
A night’s shut-eye is near impossible without loud distractions,
Without men cheering, women laughing, and smog lighting up every inch of the house,
But I did not mind.
The noise came with a feeling of safety and content,
The vapor that filled the room was comforting,
2 a.m. was the new 8 p.m. for my family,
And that was something too valuable to lose,
The gathering’s that took place at my house was never an invitation,
uncles, aunts, cousins, and far away family friends joined in freely,
Every night in Amman was a weekend, no matter how hard the week was.
The fumes not only filled houses, but they also filled bright street’s in every corner of the city,
It was medically unhealthy, but medicine for the soul,
The burning material brought friends, families, and strangers altogether.
0 notes
Text
Poem #3 Final Draft
Effortlessly Crowned
Blemishes covered with each layer,
Running late with nowhere to go,
No time for even a small prayer,
Waiting for a glimpse of glow,
Running late with nowhere to go,
Flaws looking for a way out,
Waiting for a glimpse of glow,
A smirk transformed into a pout,
Flaws looking for a way out,
Money well spent thrown around,
A smirk transformed into a pout,
Until she is effortlessly crowned,
Money well spent thrown around,
Time spinning like a record player,
Until she is effortlessly crowned,
Blemishes covered with each layer.
0 notes
Text
Poem #3
Crowned
Blemishes covered with each layer,
Running late with no where to go,
No time for even a small prayer,
Waiting for a glimpse of glow,
Running late with no where to go,
Flaws looking for a way out,
Waiting for a glimpse of glow,
A smirk transformed to a pout,
Flaws looking for a way out,
Money well spent thrown around,
A smirk transformed to a pout,
Until she is effortlessly crowned,
Money well spent thrown around,
Time spinning like a record player,
Until she is effortlessly crowned,
Blemishes covered with each layer.
0 notes
Text
Poem #2 Final Draft
Freedom and Pursuit
Wandering dazed and confused,
Words once much used,
Indulge in freedom and pursuit,
Speechless and frightened,
Every breath is brightened,
Wandering dazed and confused,
No lip too heavy to say,
The meaning light as day,
Indulge in freedom and pursuit,
Situations once unbridgeable,
Become almost biblical,
Wandering dazed and confused,
The path to acceptance unlegible,
Troubles, found in rubble,
Indulged in freedom and pursuit,
Things held onto tightly,
Let go rightly,
Indulged in freedom and pursuit,
Wandering dazed and confused
0 notes
Text
Poem #2 First Draft
Poem #2
Wandering dazed and confused,
Words once much used,
Indulge in freedom and pursuit,
Speechless and frightened,
Every breath is brightened,
Wandering dazed and confused,
No lip too heavy to say,
The meaning light as day,
Indulge in freedom and pursuit,
Situations once unbridgeable,
Become almost biblical,
Wandering dazed and confused,
The path to acceptance unlegible,
Troubles, found in rubble,
Indulged in freedom and pursuit,
Things held onto tightly,
Let go rightly,
Indulged in freedom and pursuit,
Wandering dazed and confused
0 notes
Text
Fiction Final Draft
It was just a regular Thursday morning smack dab in the middle of winter. Reed was putting on her college sweatshirt paired with her favorite tight yoga pants. She was in her first semester of sophomore year and was putting full effort in her college courses. So naturally, she got no sleep.Fearing she would be the slightest bit late to Neuroscience class, she skipped breakfast and ranout the door. As she stepped into her burnt down grey Nissan, she could feel her right leg feeling numb...like it was asleep and unconscious. Although concerned, she brushed it off thinking it might have been caused by the extra tight yoga pants she wore. She knew she wouldn't be able to drive too well with her numb leg, but at that point, Reed did not want to risk going in late. She knew that whatever it was, it would probably wear off by the time she got onto campus. Reed’s college was only a ten-minute drive from her place which reassured her that she would be able to drive without any problems. She said her prayers quickly, and as she drove away, she turned on her radio to listen to some worship songs on the way as she did every morning. Passing by the usual sights, Reed had a weird feeling. She couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling was, but it was not a good one for sure. For some reason, in her mind, she had a sense that this morning routine was soon to end. Red light after red light, Reed focused on her the numbness of her right leg. She couldn't believe it was lasting that long. This has happened before but for no more than two minutes. Reed was only a couple of blocks away from her college campus. She felt relieved that she was going to make it there safe, with her leg acting up.
Before entering campus, there is a busy intersection with cars flying by. Reed was getting ready to turn on the green light. She took a sip of her coffee and pressed on the gas, turning thewheel smoothly to avoid hitting the curb as usual. Before she could even blink to see what had happened, the gas pedal flung sending Reed’s car flying straight into two cars to her right. She tried to press the brake pedal, but her leg won’t even move to brake. She grabbed ahold of her leg trying to see what was wrong. Sobbing hysterically, she hit her head on the steering wheel, and the airbags opened right up to shield Reed’s body. Blood ran down her forehead that was cut from the charred glass on the windshield. She could barely breathe with the airbags pressing against her chest like a truck. Her leg was stuck in that position as if paralyzed. Bystanders frantically called the ambulance while trying to calm Reed down. The drivers in the cars were also two college students pulling up onto campus. They both were fortunately not injured, just shaken up. However, their cars were messed up badly, with rears smashed, and busted lights. They fully blamed the accident on Reed to the police. They did not know that what had happened was not Reed’s doing, rather it was her leg. It was not that Reed was a reckless driver, instead it was her bad idea of driving with a numb leg. An ambulance rushed through
traffic to get to Reed as quickly as possible. The cut on her head was deep, and her leg still unable to move. She fell unconscious due to all the chaos around her and the pain that felt like it would take her life. The EMTs pulled Reed’s light body onto the stretcher while yelling things no one would understand but medical professionals, which made the situation even more frightening. They set her up with a ventilator to help her breathe easier and tried to reduce the bleeding on her cut forehead by putting pressure. She has not gained any bit of consciousness. They called up her parents who were taken by surprise. She was never a bad driver, even when she was just starting out. The ambulance rushed to the emergency trauma center entrance, pulling the stretcher quickly for the doctors to aid her. Her mother frantically ran in, crying and yelling at any nurse she saw. She had known something was off about Reed in the morning, but she let it go and blamed stress. Now her mother, hysterically sobbing, is blaming herself for not asking Reed if she was able to drive herself. The trauma center was not the best in the city, but it was the closest to Reed’s college. The doctor stitched Reed’s deep cut, and mentioned that the scar would soon become better. Reed became conscious and tried to calm her chaotic parents, reassuring them that she felt better. The ER was busy that day, so they tried to discharge Reed as quickly as possible. However, Reed wanted to talk to the doctor about her leg. She took him step by step through the numbness and how it got stuck and wouldn’t move for about thirty minutes that morning. The rather negligent Doctor, blamed this on morning exhaustion and told Reed to come back if she felt her leg numbing again.
On the way back home, Reed felt exhausted. The car accident took a toll on Reed physically and emotionally. Her car was totaled, and she knew her father did not need any more bills coming his way. She kept blaming herself for getting into that car. She knew it was a bad idea. However, Reed was more worried about her leg. She knew that what had happened was not morning tiredness, or stress. Deep down inside, she knew something was different. She stressed this to her mother, but could not get her point across. This was something far more nerve-wracking than anything she ever experienced. Ultimately, she took the Doctor’s advice, rested, vowed to stress less, and eat better. She told herself that if she felt numb again, she would go back to the ER and have some tests done. Reed decided , however, to not mention to her mother if she needed to go back. She saw how terrified her family was and did not want to alarm them due to her uncertainty. She is well over eighteen and feels like now is the time to be independent. Reed decided it was best to go to her Friday classes since she felt fine the day after the accident. She took an uber since no one was available to drive her to her morning psychology class. On the way, she was coming up with stories about her head injury to tell friends. Reed felt like it was best to not tell everyone about the accident. It was not that she was ashamed, but she knew about the accident would just send her into a cycle of worry. Passing by that intersection before entering campus, she could not even open her eyes. She wanted that memory gone. In her three years of driving, she never had an accident. Reed took pride in that. As she walked into class, she can tell all eyes were on her. She disregarded any questions and quickly made up excuses for her injury. Not once mentioning the true story.
Throughout the day, all Reed could think about was the horrible numbness that she had suffered. It felt like paralysis. She decided to google her symptoms, trying to find clear answers. Many searches mentioned exhaustion, stress, sleeping positions, and unhealthy sleeping habits. She searched more to find a more specific diagnosis. Reed knew that her searching up symptoms would just scare her more. But what she found after searching was too horrifying to ignore. An article by a John Hopkins Doctor popped up. The article summarized how numbness in the legs might be a sign of episodes of the potentially disabling disease Multiple Sclerosis. This condition is unpredicted and largely affects the Central Nervous System. Reed could not hold back her tears. The article mentioned that another sign of the chronic disease was episodes of blurry vision. These episodes can last anywhere from two days to months. Reed has experienced this on multiple occasions for a few days. At this point, Reed is freaking out. She couldn’t eat, sleep or even do some schoolwork.
The next day, Reed went to her family Doctor asking for guidance and a clear diagnosis. She mentioned the signs of Multiple Sclerosis, and what she has experienced so far. The Doctor, who has been with her since birth, decided that it would be best to do some testing, and call up her family. The Doctor referred to Reed and her family to a Neurologist, who specializes in Multiple Sclerosis in young adults. The Neurologist, who seemed concerned right after hearing Reed’s symptoms, tested Reed immediately. The waiting time, although short, felt like a decade. Reed was on the edge of her seat. She can see her mother making phone calls, making her feel more anxious. Her father, who rarely prays, was concentrating on every syllable of “Our Father”. The sight of her once brave parents anxiously waiting on news that might change their lives, made her feel like giving up.
Doctor Naeem, the surprisingly young Neurologist, came in holding a bulky folder. Instead of using medical terms, no one would understand, Dr. Naeem spoke to Reed and her parents in plain english. He finally revealed that Reed does in fact have Multiple Sclerosis. Although it is not as severe as in other patients, Reed will still have to change some factors in her life. Reed’s diet and lifestyle will have to be focused on precisely in order to avoid new episodes. Dr. Naeem mentioned to Reed that from now on she will have to think twice about driving her car everywhere. He warned her that numbness might happen suddenly or gradually but she must be very cautious. She must not drive for long periods of time or when she feels tired. Dr. Naeem also emphasized the importance of reducing stress. Stress is a known trigger for episodes of Multiple Sclerosis. Although a lifestyle change is necessary, it is still not enough. To prevent further damage to Reed’s Central Nervous System, she will have to take three injections a week. These injections can be administered at home by parents or alone. After a few months, she will be evaluated by a Neurologist to see if she can switch to pills instead. This was a lot to take in. Just last week, Reed was a normal college girl with her biggest worry being schoolwork. Now her education is the last thing on her mind. She is more nervous about how this disease will take its course in her body. Over time, many Multiple Sclerosis patients suffer from movement issues and disabilities. This is why Reed must take caution now and put her health first. She has to keep track of her lifestyle daily and consult with her doctor every month. Leaving the clinic, Reed was speechless. She could not even build up the courage to speak to her parents about the diagnosis. On the way home, she could feel negative thoughts creeping up. These thoughts about the disease will only cause more stress. She decided that she will follow all the protocols to avoid an episode and leave the rest up to God. There's only so much she can do.
0 notes
Text
Fiction draft #1
Reena Kawwa
Professor Reiter
ENL 267
125 March 20
Numbness
It was just a regular Thursday morning smack dab in the middle of winter. Reed was putting on her college sweatshirt paired with her favorite tight yoga pants. She was in her first semester of sophomore year and was putting full effort in her college courses. So naturally, she got no sleep.Fearing she would be the slightest bit late to Neuroscience class, she skipped breakfast and ranout the door. As she stepped into her burnt down grey Nissan, she could feel her right leg feeling numb...like it was asleep and unconscious. Although concerned, she brushed it off thinking it might have been caused by the extra tight yoga pants she wore. She knew she wouldn't be able to drive too well with her numb leg, but at that point, Reed did not want to risk going in late. She knew that whatever it was, it would probably wear off by the time she got onto campus. Reed’s college was only a ten-minute drive from her place which reassured her that she would be able to drive without any problems. She said her prayers quickly, and as she drove away, she turned on her radio to listen to some worship songs on the way as she did every morning. Passing by the usual sights, Reed had a weird feeling. She couldn’t pinpoint what the feeling was, but it was not a good one for sure. For some reason, in her mind, she had a sense that this morning routine was soon to end. Red light after red light, Reed focused on her the numbness of her right leg. She couldn't believe it was lasting that long. This has happened before but for no more than two minutes. Reed was only a couple of blocks away from her college campus. She felt relieved that she was going to make it there safe, with her leg acting up.
Before entering campus, there is a busy intersection with cars flying by. Reed was getting ready to turn on the green light. She took a sip of her coffee and pressed on the gas, turning thewheel smoothly to avoid hitting the curb as usual. Before she could even blink to see what had happened, the gas pedal flung sending Reed’s car flying straight into two cars to her right. She tried to press the brake pedal, but her leg won’t even move to brake. She grabbed ahold of her leg trying to see what was wrong. Sobbing hysterically, she hit her head on the steering wheel, and the airbags opened right up to shield Reed’s body. Blood ran down her forehead that was cut from the charred glass on the windshield. She could barely breathe with the airbags pressing against her chest like a truck. Her leg was stuck in that position as if paralyzed. Bystanders frantically called the ambulance while trying to calm Reed down. The drivers in the cars were also two college students pulling up onto campus. They both were fortunately not injured, just shaken up. However, their cars were messed up badly, with rears smashed, and busted lights. They fully blamed the accident on Reed to the police. They did not know that what had happened was not Reed’s doing, rather it was her leg. It was not that Reed was a reckless driver, instead it was her bad idea of driving with a numb leg. An ambulance rushed through
traffic to get to Reed as quickly as possible. The cut on her head was deep, and her leg still unable to move. She fell unconscious due to all the chaos around her and the pain that felt like it would take her life. The EMTs pulled Reed’s light body onto the stretcher while yelling things no one would understand but medical professionals, which made the situation even more frightening. They set her up with a ventilator to help her breathe easier and tried to reduce the bleeding on her cut forehead by putting pressure. She has not gained any bit of consciousness. They called up her parents who were taken by surprise. She was never a bad driver, even when she was just starting out. The ambulance rushed to the emergency trauma center entrance, pulling the stretcher quickly for the doctors to aid her. Her mother frantically ran in, crying and yelling at any nurse she saw. She had known something was off about Reed in the morning, but she let it go and blamed stress. Now her mother, hysterically sobbing, is blaming herself for not asking Reed if she was able to drive herself. The trauma center was not the best in the city, but it was the closest to Reed’s college. The doctor stitched Reed’s deep cut, and mentioned that the scar would soon become better. Reed became conscious and tried to calm her chaotic parents, reassuring them that she felt better. The ER was busy that day, so they tried to discharge Reed as quickly as possible. However, Reed wanted to talk to the doctor about her leg. She took him step by step through the numbness and how it got stuck and wouldn’t move for about thirty minutes that morning. The rather negligent Doctor, blamed this on morning exhaustion and told Reed to come back if she felt her leg numbing again.
On the way back home, Reed felt exhausted. The car accident took a toll on Reed physically and emotionally. Her car was totaled, and she knew her father did not need any more bills coming his way. She kept blaming herself for getting into that car. She knew it was a bad idea. However, Reed was more worried about her leg. She knew that what had happened was not morning tiredness, or stress. Deep down inside, she knew something was different. She stressed this to her mother, but could not get her point across. This was something far more nerve-wracking than anything she ever experienced. Ultimately, she took the Doctor’s advice, rested, vowed to stress less, and eat better. She told herself that if she felt numb again, she would go back to the ER and have some tests done. Reed decided , however, to not mention to her mother if she needed to go back. She saw how terrified her family was and did not want to alarm them due to her uncertainty. She is well over eighteen and feels like now is the time to be independent.
Reed decided it was best to go to her Friday classes since she felt fine the day after the accident. She took an uber since no one was available to drive her to her morning psychology class. On the way, she was coming up with stories about her head injury to tell friends. Reed felt like it was best to not tell everyone about the accident. It was not that she was ashamed, but she knew about the accident would just send her into a cycle of worry. Passing by that intersection before entering campus, she could not even open her eyes. She wanted that memory gone. In her three years of driving, she never had an accident. Reed took pride in that. As she walked into class, she can tell all eyes were on her. She disregarded any questions and quickly made up excuses for her injury. Not once mentioning the true story.
Throughout the day, all Reed could think about was the horrible numbness that she had suffered. It felt like paralysis. She decided to google her symptoms, trying to find clear answers. Many searches mentioned exhaustion, stress, sleeping positions, and unhealthy sleeping habits. She searched more to find a more specific diagnosis. Reed knew that her searching up symptoms would just scare her more. But what she found after searching was too horrifying to ignore. An article by a John Hopkins Doctor popped up. The article summarized how numbness in the legs might be a sign of episodes of the potentially disabling disease Multiple Sclerosis. This condition is unpredicted and largely affects the Central Nervous System. Reed could not hold back her tears. The article mentioned that another sign of the chronic disease was episodes of blurry vision. These episodes can last anywhere from two days to months. Reed has experienced this on multiple occasions for a few days. At this point, Reed is freaking out. She couldn’t eat, sleep or even do some schoolwork.
The next day, Reed went to her family Doctor asking for guidance and a clear diagnosis. She mentioned the signs of Multiple Sclerosis, and what she has experienced so far. The Doctor, who has been with her since birth, decided that it would be best to do some testing, and call up her family. The Doctor referred to Reed and her family to a Neurologist, who specializes in Multiple Sclerosis in young adults. The Neurologist, who seemed concerned right after hearing Reed’s symptoms, tested Reed immediately. The waiting time, although short, felt like a decade. Reed was on the edge of her seat. She can see her mother making phone calls, making her feel more anxious. Her father, who rarely prays, was concentrating on every syllable of “Our Father”. The sight of her once brave parents anxiously waiting on news that might change their lives, made her feel like giving up.
Doctor Naeem, the surprisingly young Neurologist, came in holding a bulky folder. Instead of using medical terms, no one would understand, Dr. Naeem spoke to Reed and her parents in plain english. He finally revealed that Reed does in fact have Multiple Sclerosis. Although it is not as severe as in other patients, Reed will still have to change some factors in her life. Reed’s diet and lifestyle will have to be focused on precisely in order to avoid new episodes. Dr. Naeem mentioned to Reed that from now on she will have to think twice about driving her car everywhere. He warned her that numbness might happen suddenly or gradually but she must be very cautious. She must not drive for long periods of time or when she feels tired. Dr. Naeem also emphasized the importance of reducing stress. Stress is a known trigger for episodes of Multiple Sclerosis. Although a lifestyle change is necessary, it is still not enough. To prevent further damage to Reed’s Central Nervous System, she will have to take three injections a week. These injections can be administered at home by parents or alone. After a few months, she will be evaluated by a Neurologist to see if she can switch to pills instead. This was a lot to take in. Just last week, Reed was a normal college girl with her biggest worry being schoolwork. Now her education is the last thing on her mind. She is more nervous about how this disease will take its course in her body. Over time, many Multiple Sclerosis patients suffer from movement issues and disabilities. This is why Reed must take caution now and put her health first. She has to keep track of her lifestyle daily and consult with her doctor every month. Leaving the clinic, Reed was speechless. She could not even build up the courage to speak to her parents about the diagnosis. On the way home, she could feel negative thoughts creeping up. These thoughts about the disease will only cause more stress. She decided that she will follow all the protocols to avoid an episode and leave the rest up to God. There's only so much she can do.
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Text
Poem #1 Final Draft
Waters flow smooth and steady, for the savior to makeready,
Our redemption in the unfiltered river, cries out to our giver,
Jordan stems deep from the roots, unbothered and untouched,
To be restored in our souls, as is written in the holy scrolls,
The waters of Jordan are blue, with white doves coming onto,
Faith, hope, and peace swim, bringing an end to all that is grim,
A promise made just, motivating spiritual wanderlust,
building a life on a stable foundation, focusing solely on his kingdom’s nation,
Weak and tired bones in a situation, seeking liquid affirmation,
Doubts and fears, his praises sung, for many years to come,
Sins washed away with every drop,
Knee’s unworthy bow on rooftops,
Every eye shedding a spirit-filled tear,
Distant voices shouting gloriously,
“Whom shall I fear?”
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Text
Poem #1 First Draft
The Waters of Jordan
Waters flow smooth and steady, for the savior to makeready,
Our redemption in the unfiltered river, cries out to our giver,
Jordan stems deep from the roots, unbothered and untouched,
To be restored in our souls, as is written in the holy scrolls,
The waters of Jordan are blue, with white doves coming onto,
Faith, hope, and praise swim, bringing an end to all that is grim,
A promise made just, encouraging spiritual wanderlust,
building a life on a stable foundation, focusing solely on his kingdoms nation,
Weak and tired bones in a situation, seeking liquid affirmation,
Doubts and fears, his praises sung, for all the years to come,
Sins washed away with every drop,
Knee’s unworthy bow on rooftops,
Every eye shedding a holy tear,
Distant voices shouting gloriously,
“Whom shall I fear?”
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Final Draft of Non-Fiction
Reena Kawwa
Professor Reiter
ENL 267
04 February 2020
Qahweh of Life
I grew up around the rich aroma of Qahweh. Qahweh is the Arabian version of brewed American coffee. It is lightly or heavily roasted Arabica coffee beans with a hint of Cardamom. There is no limit to what Qahweh can be served for. In Middle Eastern countries, Qahweh is a commonality between everyone from poor to rich and muslim and christian, which is why it is used as a peacemaker. In The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, Qahweh Sadah (Black Coffee) is a hospitality staple. We greet our friends, families and royals with 3 oz of dark, boiling, black liquid. To not offer coffee during meetings is seen as disrespectful. During engagement parties in Jordan called Jahaa, the groom's family visits the bride's house to ask for her hand in marriage. The groom will be offered a cup of Qahweh, but will usually postpone drinking it until the bride’s family gives their blessing for the marriage. This simple act is seen as respect for the two families involved. During the Jaha, the Qahweh Sadah is seen as a peace offering. This tradition adds emphasis as to why Qahweh is not just coffee. It is a sacrifice, a gift, and a common denominator.
I personally never knew what the hype was about. The 3oz cup of bitter coffee
seemed like torture. The first sip is somehow also the last. After that, you’ll be up for hours,
possibly on the edge of an anxiety attack. My Grandma never started her less-than- busy day without a Finjan (espresso sized cup) of Qahweh. She also never ended her day without
one. Making Qahweh is a process. You put the pulverized coffee beans into a Rakwe. A Rakwe
is a small pot that is used specifically for Arabic coffee. Many people in Arabic countries prefer
to add cardamom pods to the Rakwe. That addition however, is your choice. Oftentimes, people
enjoy Qahweh black, but you will get the occasional guest that prefers to get a sugar rush with
the caffeine boost. In that case, you can add the desired amount of sugar into the Rakwe before
the coffee is made. Kids were never offered Qahweh. They would be given Chai as a substitute.
Arabian Chai is not your regular Starbucks Chai latte. Chai is the Arabic word for black tea. It is
our Earl grey. Up until the age of fifteen, I was enjoying a small cup of Chai every morning with
breakfast and every night after dinner. The caffeine boost is minimal but it goes great with
Jordanian meals.
One morning, I woke up to a fresh Rakwe of Qahweh being made by my father. At that time, I was a kid trying to rush into adulthood. Being surrounded by older cousins, the escape from childhood is justified. Being a kid is hell. I was done having Chai while they all sipped their little cups of Qahweh and gossiped about everything that is far from important. I wanted in. So, naturally, I picked up a finjan and poured myself 3oz of that black liquid diploma into adulthood. My mother was not having it. She bombarded me with negative side effects to coffee as she was sipping on hers. If you are under the age of 17 and drink Qahweh, in a few months you’ll be cursed with a full-ass beard. That myth is the ultimate threat to Arab women as facial hair is seen as the end of the world. The full-ass beard is not a threat to me. I drank up. I sipped it while listening in on the ted talk that my mother hosted with her sisters in our kitchen.
I did not enjoy the first sip. It was bitter, too hot to take as a shot, yet too tiny to drink slowly. Nevertheless, I intended on finishing it. The second sip took me by surprise. I could feel the Qahweh’s acidity in the pit of my stomach. For beginners, Qahweh is like taking a shot of liquid ginger. You close your eyes, pinch your nose and pray you don’t gag. I did not enjoy the second sip, but I also did not hate it. I tolerated it. My pinky finger did not get the gist of the Finjan. It was not supposed to fold around the baby cup, rather it was supposed to be slightly tipped to the side. At least that is how the adults held it. I eyed how my Grandma held it closely because it somehow looked elegant. The conversation had shifted from travel ideas to juicy family gossip.
As a teenager, there is nothing that amused me more than the talk of family members. I listened closely until I had an anecdote to add. I finally had a great addition to the story of my cousin’s messy engagement. I might have shared too much and I blame that all on the two sips of Qahweh. Nevertheless, I got everyone’s attention instantly...there it is! I mastered the art of sipping the Qahweh! That was the third sip. The ultimate sip. During that short-lived moment, the Qahweh in my mind became a rocky road ice cream. I could still feel the sharp acidic flavor on my lips. It was far from the French vanilla, splash of caramel, soy milk latte everyone seems to be obsessed with. I suddenly did not mind the blandness. I somehow enjoyed the sharp sting that I had previously dreaded during the first few sips. By the third sip, when you finally start to want more, there are only two more sips left. The second to last sip is just as good as the third, if not better. It’s still boiling, silky smooth like velvet, and pitch black. This sip is a hard one to swallow. You can feel the end of the Finjan nearing so you take your time. You make small talk, pretend like you're interested in whoever’s story you're listening to, and try to make plans for the next Qahweh session. Most importantly, you dread the upcoming sip. You despise it. You mull over the idea of just pouring the rest into the sink and running. It’s crazy to think that just as you start to want more, it becomes distasteful. You crave more of that third and fourth sip. You know the one coming will be far from good. You wanna know what the last sip of Qahweh feels like? It is similar to the feeling you get when you go overboard on that “All you can eat sushi buffet”. When you promise that that Philly roll is the last order you’ll put in, yet you somehow end up getting three more. You enjoy the first two pieces, but then wonder how you’ll finish the rest. Your full but yet you don’t want to stop. It’s a deadly cycle.
Ultimately, you never end up pouring the rest of the Qahweh out. You want
to stay in the conversation and force yourself to pull it together. You close your eyes, pinch our nose, and try your hardest to keep it together in front of your family. This sip is the only sip I took as if it was a shot of Irish Car Bomb. It was no joke. Almost identical to taking a shot of hard liquor. It was bitter, potent and yet essential to the after-effects. Do you want to be vigorous? You must drink the remaining sip. The last sip is not smooth. Since the Qahweh in the pot is unfiltered, the grounded beans end up at the end of the Finjan. So the last sip is filled with little tiny bits of coffee beans that get stuck to your upper lip as you drink it. You pull through though because what comes next is the most exciting part of drinking Qahweh with family members.
After everyone finishes their cup, we flip it upside down and rest it on the saucer that the cup comes with. We let the residue dry and then turn it over. The myth is that once the residue of the Qahweh is stained on the cup, a superstitious person with a gift of reading the future will try and “read the cup”. This is called Tasseography. The stain of the left-over liquid and coffee beans make all kinds of shapes on the cup. Usually, in most Qahweh dates, there is that one person who is gifted at Tasseography. They can make out crazy stories through unclear shapes on the cup. They analyze every little stain pattern and interpret it into real-life situations for the person who drank from the cup. No stain is left unread. Every detail is a clue to predicting the person’s future. I’m Christian, so this tradition is only for fun, we are not allowed to take the predictions seriously because we believe fate is in the hands of God. Yet, we always find ourselves asking someone to read our cup. It’s like even though we know it’s wrong, we still need all the hope we can get.
I can not help but wonder if life is merely a cup of Qahweh? Is our life those five sips of roasted coffee beans? It’s a weird thing to believe, but let me explain myself. The first sip if you recall, is bitter, too hot to take as a shot yet too little to drink slowly. The first sip is not exactly enjoyable. You get a sudden wave of anxiety mixed with indescribable energy that keeps you going for hours. You want to stop drinking but you can’t. You encourage yourself to suck it up and keep going. What if, the first sip of Qahweh, was the first time you felt rejected? It's a bitter moment when you realize that something you wanted so bad, was simply not for you. Maybe it was that fancy-schmancy job interview in the city that you could swear you mastered. You left the office thinking you secured that position with a wide smirk across your face. That smirk, however, was wiped right off two days later when you got the “I’m sorry, but thank you for your interest and time” email from the manager. Just like that first sip, you would love to just give up but something tells you to keep trying. The second sip of Qahweh took you by surprise. Just when you thought things might start looking up, you are filled with that acidic flavor in the pit of your stomach. Maybe that acidity is the butterflies you get when you are in that second job interview. You worked on your weaknesses and vowed to show up with more confidence. With this sip, however, you want to keep going and see how the finjan will end. You get that call back for a second interview and suddenly those butterflies in your stomach become a little more tolerable.
The third sip or as I like to call it “The ultimate sip”, is nothing short of amazing. You start to feel the Qahweh in action and begin to love the acidity. The third sip is an unexpected adventure. Maybe that third sip is the first time you locked eyes with someone you love deeply. You're still nervous, the butterflies are still flying all over your tummy, but that look is too beautiful to give up. You feel safe and decide to continue on this unexpected, eccentric, and personally unorthodox journey. The fourth sip is even better than the third. It is still hot and smooth like velvet. It flows right out of the cup with ease and elegance. You can feel the end of the finjan coming up shortly, so you take your time and enjoy every second. Maybe this sip is the unforgettable moments that you have with your significant other. In those moments, you do not have a care in the world. All your focus is on each other. However, stressful thoughts about every minor detail in your life cloud your mind and all of a sudden you fear the end of those carefree moments. As humans, we are wired to think about our future and often overthink details that are simply premature.
The last sip is nothing like you’ve ever feared. It is messy, way too bitter, and almost scary. The little coffee bits that roll off the finjan into your mouth are inevitable. You knew this was coming. Maybe the last sip is that crushing feeling you get when you are not given that promotion. Maybe the last sip is the moment you learn that you are being evicted due to a large amount of rent money left unpaid. You worry you do not have what it takes to pay that bill, or even talk to your boss about the promotion. Even with all those fears, you push through it. You talk to someone you trust, you work a little harder, and you encourage yourself by believing that what comes next will be exciting and life-changing.
After all that, once the finjan has come to an end, the tasseography begins. Maybe the Qahweh cup reading, is us trying so hard to predict our destiny and see where life will take us. We know that no matter how hard we try at reading every detail in that cup, our future is not in our hands. We do not have full control of what is coming up next. Instead, God is the only one who holds our future. We can try all we want, but life is a beautiful, tiny 3oz cup of hope. It is unexpected, enjoyable, delicious and bitter all in one. The only thing for us to do is close our eyes, pinch our nose, and pray for the best.
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First Draft Non-Fiction
Reena Kawwa
Professor Reiter
ENL 267
04 February 2020
“First Sip of Hope”
I grew up around the rich aroma of Qahweh. Qahweh is the Arabian version of brewed American coffee. It is lightly or heavily roasted Arabica coffee beans with a hint of Cardamom. There is no limit to what Qahweh can be served for. In Middle Eastern countries, Qahweh is a commonality between everyone from poor to rich and muslim and christian, which is why it is used as a peacemaker. In The Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan, Qahweh Sadah (Black Coffee) is a hospitality staple. We greet our friends, families and royals with 3 oz of dark, boiling, black liquid. To not offer coffee during meetings is seen as disrespectful. During engagement parties in Jordan called Jahaa, the groom's family visits the bride's house to ask for her hand in marriage. The groom will be offered a cup of Qahweh, but will usually postpone drinking it until the bride’s family gives their blessing for the marriage. This simple act is seen as respect for the two families involved. During the Jaha, the Qahweh Sadah is seen as a peace offering. This tradition adds emphasis as to why Qahweh is not just coffee. It is a sacrifice, a gift, and a common denominator.
I personally never knew what the hype was about. The 3oz cup of bitter coffee
seemed like torture. The first sip is somehow also the last. After that, you’ll be up for hours,
possibly on the edge of an anxiety attack. My Grandma never started her less-than-
busy day without a Finjan (espresso sized cup) of Qahweh. She also never ended her day without
one. Making Qahweh is a process. You put the pulverized coffee beans into a Rakwe. A Rakwe
is a small pot that is used specifically for Arabic coffee. Many people in Arabic countries prefer
to add cardamom pods to the Rakwe. That addition however, is your choice. Oftentimes, people
enjoy Qahweh black, but you will get the occasional guest that prefers to get a sugar rush with
the caffeine boost. In that case, you can add the desired amount of sugar into the Rakwe before
the coffee is made. Kids were never offered Qahweh. They would be given Chai as a substitute.
Arabian Chai is not your regular Starbucks Chai latte. Chai is the Arabic word for black tea. It is
our Earl grey. Up until the age of fifteen, I was enjoying a small cup of Chai every morning with
breakfast and every night after dinner. The caffeine boost is minimal but it goes great with
Jordanian meals.
One morning, I woke up to a fresh Rakwe of Qahweh being made by my father. At that time, I was a kid trying to rush into adulthood. Being surrounded by older cousins, the escape from childhood is justified. Being a kid is hell. I was done having Chai while they all sipped their little cups of Qahweh and gossiped about everything that is far from important. I wanted in. So, naturally I picked up a finjan and poured myself 3oz of that black liquid diploma into adulthood. My mother was not having it. She bombarded me with negative side effects to coffee as she was sipping on hers. Apparently, if you are under the age of 17 and drink Qahweh, in a few months you’ll be cursed with a full-ass beard. That myth is the ultimate threat to Arab women as facial hair is seen as the end of the world.. The full-ass beard is not a threat to me. I drank up. I sipped it while listening in on the ted talk that my mother hosted with her sisters in our kitchen.
I did not enjoy the first sip. It was bitter, too hot to take as a shot,yet too tiny to drink slowly. Nevertheless, I intended on finishing it. The second sip took me by surprise. I could feel the Qahweh’s acidity in the pit of my stomach. For beginners, Qahweh is like taking a shot of liquid ginger. You close your eyes, pinch your nose and pray you don’t gag. I did not enjoy the second sip, but I also did not hate it. I tolerated it. My pinky finger did not get the gist of the Finjan. It was not supposed to fold around the baby cup, rather it was supposed to be slightly tipped to the side. At least that is how the adults held it. I eyed how my Grandma held it closely because it somehow looked elegant. The conversation had shifted from travel ideas to juicy family gossip.
As a teenager, there is nothing that amused me more than the talk of family members. I listened closely until I had an anecdote to add.I finally had a great addition to the story of my cousin’s messy engagement. I might have shared too much and I blame that all on the two sips of Qahweh. Nevertheless, I got everyone’s attention instantly...there it is! I mastered the art of sipping the Qahweh!That was the third sip. The ultimate sip. During that short-lived moment, the Qahweh in my mind became a rocky road ice cream. I could still feel the sharp acidic flavor on my lips. It was far from the French vanilla, splash of caramel, soy milk latte everyone seems to be obsessed with. I suddenly did not mind the blandness. I somehow enjoyed the sharp sting that I had previously dreaded during the first few sips. By the third sip, when you finally start to want more, there’s only two more sips left. The second to last sip, is just as good as the third ,if not better. It’s still boiling hot, silky smooth like velvet, and pitch black. This sip is a hard one to swallow. You can feel the end of the Finjan nearing so you take your time. You make small talk, pretend like you're interested in whoever’s story you're listening to, and try to make plans for the next Qahweh session. Most importantly, you dread the upcoming sip. You absolutely despise it. You mull over the idea of just pouring the rest into the sink and running. It’s absolutely crazy to think that just as you start to want more, it becomes distasteful. You crave more of that third and fourth sip. You know the one coming will be far from good. You wanna know what the last sip of Qahweh feels like? It is similar to the feeling you get when you go overboard on that “All you can eat sushi buffet”. When you promise that that philly roll is the last order you’ll put in, yet you somehow end up getting three more. You enjoy the first two pieces, but then wonder how you’ll finish the rest. Your full but yet you don’t want to stop. It’s a deadly cycle.
Ultimately, you never end up pouring the rest of the Qahweh out. You want to stay in the conversation and force yourself to pull it together. You close your eyes, pinch your nose, and try your hardest to keep it together in front of your family. This sip, is the only sip I took as if it was a shot of Irish Car Bomb. It was no joke. Almost identical to taking a shot of hard liquor. It was bitter, potent and yet essential to the after effects. You want to be vigorous? You must drink the remaining sip. The last sip is not smooth. Since the Qahweh in the pot is unfiltered, the grounded beans end up at the end of the Finjan. So the last sip is filled with little tiny bits of coffee beans that get stuck to your upper lip as you drink it. You pull through though because what comes next is the most exciting part of drinking Qahweh with family members.
After everyone finishes their cup, we flip it upside down and rest it on the saucer that the cup comes with. We let the residue dry and then turn it over. The myth is that once the residue of the Qahweh is stained on the cup, a superstituous person with a gift of reading the future will try and “read the cup”. This is called Tasseography. The stain of the left-over liquid and coffee beans make all kinds of shapes on the cup. Usually, in most Qahweh dates, there is that one person who is gifted at Tasseography. They can make out crazy stories through unclear shapes on the cup. They analyze every little stain pattern and interpret it into real life situations for the person who drank from the cup. No stain is left unread. Every detail is a clue to predicting the person’s future. This tradition, although a myth, binds everyone together and makes for a end to a great morning.
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