These cyanotypes are poetic experiments in dreamscapes, combining images and words together into a deep blue starry sky. Dreams have become more present or memorable in my life since this pandemic began. In my research for my larger multidisciplinary project, Tomorrow We Inherit the Earth, where the queer Muslim imaginary takes center stage, I have found that in Islam dreams are theologically valid spaces, they can tell us things and allow us to confront inner demons, past lovers and even the prophets and angels themselves.
Have you ever spoken to the undead to a resurrected corpse? We can get rather poetic. Poetry was one of the founding stones to our movement, to our rebellion, that spread from the Thar desert to the source of the Indus and the Brahmaputra. Meandering down the waters of the Eurphrates into the expanse of the Sahara desert across the Pacific ocean and trekking through the Amazon. How to describe the conditions that led to this new planetary order?
In a world where the sound of air raids is  as common as the call to prayer,
Where the disappeared outnumber those of us accounted for and
Demons are celebrated as heroes and heroes mocked for their bravery.
Where nations are divided by arms folded or hanging loose and
Bullets holes become crowns on a martyr’s skull.
Where the leaders of before, tall like mountains
Are toppled, blown to the ground like a tower of cotton balls
And those who survive simply betray you.
Where stones, bricks and carved marble containing generations of stories become the rubble that paves the road to Damascus.
When we have become so sure of our impeding downfall that we watch as a people lusting for colonization destroy our neighbour’s home and use its people as target practice
When Isis becomes the name of a mysterious hoard and not the name of a great Goddess
And when an Imperialist force mistakes its occupation as liberation and human beings are called collateral damage.
It is only then that you realize that those you have always looked up to and the systems you trusted so deeply have failed you. 
It is time for Ya’juj and Majuj to emerge from the desert, so we may meet them and plot our revolution
It is time for modern civilization to crumble as it was always destined to, so we may rise from its ashes
It is time for us to evolve into monsters unseen, since humanity has proven itself arrogant
It is time for us to flip the dome of Al-Aqsa upside down and use it as a satellite to contact alien life.
Surely they have the answers?
It is time for us to take the Ka’aba back from the house of Saud, an American puppet and an embarrassment to the Muslim world
It is time to look beyond the illusions presented to a long gone world and create realities unheard of
It is time for the earth to open and release its children, so dead martyrs may rise and join the ranks of the living
It is time for us
It is time for us to Inherit the Earth.
They Told us to Wear Masqs
Memories are like jpeg files,
Magnet strips on a tape recorder, 
The more you try and use your memory, 
The more you attempt to revive what you thought you knew,
The more corrupted those files become,
Glitching pixelating, blurring,
Ripped, torn, tangled,
Spliced, crossed and scratched. 
As individuals we never truly succeed in keeping memories alive.
Instead we have shadows of memories, 
Like static on a television screen:
But societies, communities, collectives, they remember
We remember.
We remember the drones, 
We remember the airrades, 
We remember the occupation,
We remember the failures
We help each other to remember.
Memory is a weapon used by creatures of a not so distant future
Especially when we forget our pasts that were once our presents.
Do you remember the masks
We wore masks because they told us to,
Just in case they said.
In case occupiers gas citizens and blame it on lions
In case smoke enters your lungs
In case they poison your cattle and kill your vultures 
In case the truth comes out like a stream of vomit.
In case you dare to speak of what you remember.
Be careful,
Your tongue might fall out of your own mouth.
Do you remember when we were isolated from our friends to the north, south, east and west?
We made a compass and centered ourselves, we held fire in our left hand, wind in our right,
We stood on earth and water and we suddenly noticed how vulnerable we were.
Do you remember when all we could do was stare out the window?
Whether we knew it or not we locked eyes with the 11 stars that led Joseph out of solitude,
Sirius the dog star looked down at us and suddenly we were part of something bigger.
Do you remember when we felt the seven planets from head to toe, from Saturday to Friday?
And in multiplying them by the four elements of our limbs we saw the 28 stations of the moon 
In our fingertips, our toes, our earlobes, our pupils, our nostrils, our top and bottom lips.
Do you remember when we thought we were each small planets in danger of overheating,
Cursed to endure the suffering of the earth we drained,
But in isolation we found a universe in each of us.
Close your eyes. 
Did you dream of the celestial body shrouded in scripture?
Did you make love to the divinely revealed alphabet?
How many times did you moan?
Open your eye,
The third one, above the other two.
Binary symmetry of the body as male and female gaze at one other, 
Left and right, invert to the right and left and in the middle lay multiple possibilities.
The four walls of your cell 
1, 2, 3, 4 ۱، ۲، ۳، ۴
A, B, C, D ا، ب، ج، د
Translation is useless
Buddha’s toes contain the cosmos,
Krishna’s mouth holds the universe,
Heaven lies under the feet of your mother,
Hell is not meeting the lips of your lover.
The epiglottis
They’re scared of us.
The Anglos are scared of us.
Of us brown folk,  
Of us Muslims.
With our piercing gaze
Our androgynous features
Even when we’re veiled,
They’re scared we might be looking right at them
But is it really about Muslims?
Or is it about being different.
Different politically and ideologically
Eating different, speaking different.
In fact,
These things we talk about:
Islamophobia, Orientalism, Fearing and desiring of the exotic other,
These ideas and concepts were first brought up, written about and spoken about by writers like Edward Said and Amin Ma’alouf. They were Arab Christians and ironically, they too felt what I like to call, The Muslim’s Burden
That hot, judgmental gaze of the so-called ‘West’ on the so-called ‘East’,
Burdening us w/ a weight of colonialism, violence and imperialism.
Nonetheless, this society has found Muslims to be the enemy.
It really does not matter if you are actually Muslim though.
We have become racialized, 
We no longer act,
We simply exist 
And that’s enough to scare the shit out of an anglo.
It is our piercing eyes, 
Androgynous features,
Sharp tongues, 
Guttural Khhhhhhs and ghhhhhs,
Heaving 7777777hs,
Nauseating 33333s,
Rolling tds, ds and rs
Our sharp tongues that can twist and turn into every sound imaginable because,
We are everywhere at once,
We have no nation, your nation is our nation.
It is our piercing eyes
Even when you cannot see them you know they are looking 
Judging you.
What is behind these veils?
Sensuous lingerie
Versace skintight dresses
Fishnets from Gucci
Garters from fendi
A dildo by Abercrombie and Fitch
In what way would you like us to satisfy your imagination?
شھیدة سنا محیدلي

Shaheeda Sana Mahaidly

How do you marry the earth? 
How do you crawl into mother nature’s bed chamber?
How do you await her embrace?
How do you marry God?
Saint after Saint, 
Guru after Guru,
They yearn to be one of God’s many lovers.
Dreaming of lying on a bed awaiting an incomprehensible being, 
Do not imagine what they look like, 
that would be sin.
Imagine instead an overwhelming feeling of desire 
churned with an incomprehensible love that 
only our creator could have for us.
Breath in Rahman  
And Breathe out Raheem,
Over and over again 
Till your body is ready to receive 
the size of your deliverance.
لَمْ يَلِدْ وَلَمْ يُولَدْ
الله ليس أمك او أباك
الله هو العشيق 
أما الأرض فهي الأم والأب و الأخت والأخ وكاتمة الأسرار ... والمعشوقة

نتكوء عليها عند الحاجة
فهي الرحم
موجودة تحت اقدامنا و في بطوننا
ما هي تتطلب منا يا ترى ؟
و ماذا يحتوي عقد زواجنا
زواج اللحم البشري مع التراب ؟

Do not be imagine God as the Father
As the Mother,
God is the lover.
God is the very essence of the lover.
But the earth is mother, father and lover,
Sibling and confident, 
We lean on her, 
She is the rahm,
She lies beneath our feet and in our bellies.
What does the earth ask of us,
What lies in the marriage contract between flesh and soil?)
Is this what we wait for?
Our Wedding, 
Our Urs?
Unity with the earth that birthed us.
Is this what death is?
A wedding contract?
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