they set my aunts house on fire
i cried the way women on tv do
folding at the middle
like a five pound note.
i called the boy who used to love me
tried to ‘okay’ my voice
i said hello
he said warsan, what’s wrong, what’s happened?
i’ve been praying,
and these are what my prayers look like;
dear god
i come from two countries
one is thirsty
the other is on fire
both need water.
later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?
This is a poem inspired by a corset lace I found in my great-aunt’s attic never used with the price still on it. The brand name is “At the magician’s” (magician in the feminine).
À la magicienne
Un corset
Un lacet
De quelle magie parlons-nous ?
De quelle magicienne ?
De celle qui opprime
Déprime
Contraint
Astreint
Ou de celle qui embellit
Affermit
Définit
Enrichit.
C'est peut-être un choix
A chaque fois
Savoir combien
Quel équilibre
On s'astreint
On retient ou on est libre.
At the Woman-Magician’s
A corset
Its lace
Which magic are we talking about?
Which She-magician?
The one who oppresses
Depresses
Constrains
Restrains
Or the one who gives beauty
Tightens
Strengthens
Defines
It may be a choice
Each time
To find the balance
Between
How much one controls
Or one lets breathe
This poem is part of the book To be a Woman which you can have a look at Here.
Memento mori
For dust you are and to dust you shall return.
And so they did some of my loved ones
And so will I
Can I accept just not knowing anything about the after
Can I live with the descriptions other people have made
People who do not know
Or should I enter the dark world of sleeping I have experienced
And find a glimpse there.
A life real only for me, but oh so real
Mysterious, no doubt
Controlled, not in the least
I have written a poem to my father
About him asleep because
He had expressed a fear he might not wake up one day
In the poem I said “Fear not, it is not death yet”
This summer my father died
It is death now
As he lay unconscious, this time we knew he would not wake
He sighed so expressively when Sister Jeanine, a nun, spoke to him and for him
Saying “I know what it is you want…
And you can ask for it
But God will decide.”
Yes, my father was ready and willing
Let us pray that when the time comes however early or unexpected
We shall be ready and willing.