There was a war once, in my village. Great-grandfather left behind; a blind man gone missing. Right before my grandmother left For faraway city that promised hope for my grandmother and her four kids. When she returned, she never saw her father again. I can feel myself hardening with the
When I think of love, I think of you. Allah swt says that He loves you seventy times more than your mother does. Making me the most loved woman on earth. You have provided for me always like Allah. Advocated for me, cradled in your arms, cleaned and supported. Always
Ya Rabb, please multiply his good deeds, subtract away his bad deeds – baby boy in blue, birthed in the summer. May his slate be clear like his. Please purify him for his meeting with you. May he intercede for his family on the day of Yawm mul Qiyamah. May he
Bathed in wind, Breaded with love. Garden turned yellow, scattered debris. Polaroid of me and you, Immortalized memories, What we once were, people we’ll never again be. Endings bitter sweet, Judge people harshly. Your face to mine like water to my lips - sustain me. Wooden spoon, Bits of
Community feels like warm, sticky toffee. I taste it, and I instantly feel at home. The sight of seeing old friends again all grown up and different. Tainted perfectly by life’s experiences, each carrying a unique scroll of stories they dare to share. I feel joy, for we’ll
I am a witness against myself. This act of deceit, deception, a trickery of love. An act of lust against me. Chamber emanating with rage. staring absentmindedly. You mastered the dark art - counterbalancing seduction and The falsehood of love. Pawn - participant in a vie for lust. The greed
Green sweater as we eat at Miya’s. You told me you know the owner. “How do you know everyone, you just got to Winona”. Green abaya, green hijab. Gold earrings as we hold hands in the pictures of us at International Night – Dressed like the Nigerian flag. I wear
As I stand to pray on my emerald green mat, The one with golden trim racing the edges – I am reminded of the green you loved. The green that fills your closet and adorns Your body. The same green I feel When I see you with your other friends. The
Right out of Jackson’s book, leaving a trail of tears. People leave their ancestral homes. More raids, more arrests. Armed Israeli soldiers driving people off their land. West of the Jordan river, Three zones deposed. Settler - a person who moves with a group of others to live in
Dear Perfection, I'm tired. I simply have nothing left to give. An empty plastic water bottle lying on the side of the road. Driven over one too many times. Crushed and crinkled, lying helplessly on the ground. “I can’t do this anymore”, I whisper to myself. The
It weighed me down. Hadn’t any knowledge of the feeling, but it crept. Slowly slithered its way out the sepulcher. Hunting, Searching – for me. It attacked – gently grabbing my ankle, crawling up up up unto me. I didn’t fight. Finally, having company brought fleeting warmth. This thing would
Children do not expect to carry the burdens of their parents. Parents do not ever dream of burdening their children. Nor passing their pain on, nor their struggles, or sorrows, or debt…yet they do. This is not their fault entirely. The whole thing is a burden. This whole life