ten minute freewrite at 4.20 am

-

I have thrown my body around like an old excuse

I have thrown my heart out like a kite

like rice confetti

like milk teeth behind me

like salt behind me

I have thrown away all of my pride

I have thrown all of my prayers into the deep

well of your mouth.

You catch me,

you’ve caught me

honey

I have nothing left.

-

the water.

-

i’ve been angry for awhile. some days i try to write it down. things like ‘i’m bloated with salt water’ or ‘there is a sink in the middle of my chest and it’s flooding.’ 11 million people in the horn of africa are thirsty. and hungry. and dying. 11 million people. i chew on the insides of my cheeks until i draw blood. the spit in my own mouth humiliates me. there has not been a drought like this in 60 years.

when language becomes inappropriate, i can only use water to describe the lack of water. a reporter on the tv says ‘the famine in somalia is biting’. my mother holds her face in her hands. my stomach hurts.

someone leaves me an anonymous post with the word ‘drought’. all lower case. the word stares back at me. i don’t know what this person meant. a taunt, a reminder or a fragile shallow attempt at depth? my anger is tidal.

a few weeks ago a tipsy guy leaned into me after a reading and asked ‘so where are you from?’. when i tell him, he says ‘you know, of all the africans to be in the UK, that one is the worst’.

an eight year old boy at school calls my six year old sister a ‘smelly somali bastard’. she comes home crying. i taste copper in my mouth. press my face into her hair, she is a small beautiful thing with curls down to her waist.

i read a comment online under an article about the victims of the drought and famine ‘there’s so many of them anyway, it’s not like it’s going to wipe them all out’.

i am twenty two years old, my whole existence my country has been suffering. for twenty two years i have been an immigrant, a refuggee, i have been elsewhere and homesick, i have been in mourning and defending everything that i am.

‘why don’t they get the money from their pirates’ and ‘they done this to themselves’.

i’m heart broken. i’m resentlful and i’m angry and the only way to explain it is by using language about water. but there is no water, just tears pooling in the hollow of a collar bone. my friend calls me and says ‘where have you been, how are you?’ and i say ‘i’m just so angry leyla, i’m angry all the time’ and she says ‘good, you care, when you care, you must feel something’.

in somali when we see injustice we say ‘dhiiga kuma dhaqaqo?’ which translates into ‘does your blood not move?’.

dear (name of every person who does not care) when the rain fails you, i hope the world does not do the same.

-

talking to city boys on the phone.

freewrite. written in seven minutes.
-

we do breathing exercises over the phone
because you like to
punch people in the mouth.

i know,
fighting is easier
than dancing
or making love.

when i'm alone
i think of suckling on
your fractured knuckles.

just close your eyes and imagine a meadow
breathe in deep
pushing out your stomach
i hear you hesitate on the other side
of the darkness.

we should take a train out of the city
i want to name you after tall trees
compare your strength to a thick bark middle
even though the colour green just reminds
you of a two day old bruise climbing up
the side of your body like moss.
-

after fajr it is raining a little bit. it’s sunday morning, i’m still awake. insomnia means i never miss that prayer. my body is calm water. i find myself standing at the window for a long while, until the rain quiets down. my hand against the glass, like a gentle touch upon the shoulder of the sky. i’m overwhelmed. my biggest downfall is my brightest blessing, i feel too much, all the time. ya Allah, if it’ll keep my heart soft, break my heart every day.

my beloved has ninety nine names, nothing ever more beautiful, more balanced.

the greatest name, the all compassionate, the all merciful, the absolute ruler, the pure one, the source of peace, the inspirer of faith, the guardian, the victorious, the compeller, the greatest, the creator, the maker of order, the shaper of beauty, the forgiving, the subduer, the giver of all, the sustainer, the opener, the knower of all, the constricter, the reliever, the abaser, the exalter, the bestower of honor, the humiliator, the hearer of all, the seer of all, the judge, the just, the subtle one, the all aware, the forebearer, the magnificent, the forgiver and hider of faults, the rewarder of thankfullness, the highest, the greatest, the preserver, the nourisher, the accounter, the mighty, the generous, the watchful one, the responder to prayer, the all comprehending, the perfectly wise, the loving one, the majestic one, the resurrector, the witness, the truth, the trustee, the possessor of all strength, the forceful one, the governor, the praised one , the appraiser, the originator, the restorer, the giver of life, the taker of life, the ever living one, the self existing one, the finder, the glorious, the only one, the one, the satisfier of all needs, the all powerful, the creator of all power, the expediter, the delayer, the first, the last, the manifest one, the hidden one, the protecting friend, the supreme one, the doer of good, the guide to repentance, the avenger, the forgiver, the clement, the owner of all, the lord of majesty and bounty, the equitable one, the gatherer, the rich one, the enricher, the preventer of harm, the creator of the harmful, the creator of good, the light, the guide, the originator, the everlasting one, the inheritor of all, the righteous teacher, the patient one.

the 'i like you' poem

-

if you gave me
half a moon of a chance
i would
kiss the incisors
out of your mouth, clean
and hold them in my
own, like chippings
from an old mug
then
pray my tongue into
a bowl of holy water
and ask god to never
leave you thirsty.