Toffee

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 never quite be the past version of ourselves.

It’ll only ever get better now, as we heal from the environments

that once bogged us down.

I feel joy, for the future versions of ourselves that we haven’t become.

Some things have stayed the same though.

We still do talk about the gossiping aunties,

we still make jokes about the cheating uncles,

and some of us still do not get along.

Community feels like

warm, sticky toffee.

I taste it,

and I instantly feel at home.

The Civil War in Sierra Leone

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

11/25/1982

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

A Prayer for Nabi

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

Phone Poem

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 me.

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The Civil War in Sierra Leone

11/25/1982

A Prayer for Nabi

Phone Poem