Amirah Al Wassif
To bury a curious girl
When I was younger,
I stood on a mountain of pillows
With a brave decision to swallow a
whole finger. My father insulted me
because I am curious.
All his life he wished to have a
non-trouble baby whatever girl or
boy.
My forefathers preferred to bury baby girls
rather than put them
In carriages and sing them a lullaby.
I was born with a great motivation to
scratch the sky upon my shoulders, crazy
monkeys and heavy weights, I used to bake
my grief each night
And through the daylight, while they're trying
to sell me,
I spend my time calculating the distance
between my gender and my awaited funeral.
When I took my first steps, my tribe circled
around me like bees.
They approached figuring out that I have
thighs and breasts. They tucked me in the
obedience pocket, they dwelled me in an iron
cage.
They ate my wings, my
ears. When I was
younger,
I crawled towards my father’s shoulders, I
whispered, "how far does the world extend?"
He frowned and replied, "just look at the
space between your legs."
I stood on a mountain of pillows
With a brave decision to swallow a
whole finger. My father insulted me
because I am curious.
All his life he wished to have a
non-trouble baby whatever girl or
boy.
My forefathers preferred to bury baby girls
rather than put them
In carriages and sing them a lullaby.
I was born with a great motivation to
scratch the sky upon my shoulders, crazy
monkeys and heavy weights, I used to bake
my grief each night
And through the daylight, while they're trying
to sell me,
I spend my time calculating the distance
between my gender and my awaited funeral.
When I took my first steps, my tribe circled
around me like bees.
They approached figuring out that I have
thighs and breasts. They tucked me in the
obedience pocket, they dwelled me in an iron
cage.
They ate my wings, my
ears. When I was
younger,
I crawled towards my father’s shoulders, I
whispered, "how far does the world extend?"
He frowned and replied, "just look at the
space between your legs."
The same old story
Every time I start to laugh
Somebody invents a new way of laughter
I run to the closest mirror
Burying my swollen face
Counting my disappointments on my fingers
No music in the background
Only the cracking of my bones
Do you hear it?
I see you on the walls
Your purple face waving
Like a curse
I put a hand on my right chest
Singing as if the world dissolved
Between my knees
In this story
Adam didn't eat the forbidden fruit
Just Eve who did
He was busy
Creating a sudden plot twist
God upstairs
Watching in silence
In the mirror
I see your favorite song
Turned into a worm
Crawling toward my belly
Your face
Without features
I ask you
Are you hungry?
You ask me
How did you survive?
And the rest is history.
Somebody invents a new way of laughter
I run to the closest mirror
Burying my swollen face
Counting my disappointments on my fingers
No music in the background
Only the cracking of my bones
Do you hear it?
I see you on the walls
Your purple face waving
Like a curse
I put a hand on my right chest
Singing as if the world dissolved
Between my knees
In this story
Adam didn't eat the forbidden fruit
Just Eve who did
He was busy
Creating a sudden plot twist
God upstairs
Watching in silence
In the mirror
I see your favorite song
Turned into a worm
Crawling toward my belly
Your face
Without features
I ask you
Are you hungry?
You ask me
How did you survive?
And the rest is history.
Another chapter of life
When the sky falls down,
Another chapter of life will
soon open
The butterflies would love to
jump and the frogs would wish to
fly
Me and you will soon melt
In one cup of thoughts and
feelings I will be there
waiting for you
In a porch covered by
caramel
There, my right hand on my
chest
Breathing through air made of
poetry I am touched by
generous spirits
And thankful delights
When the sky falls down,
A great gate will soon appear
In the midst of nowhere
And a holy voice from the
upstairs
Will call us
Come here, come here
This is the end of the life
circus
Then we all will obey
Satisfaction will water our
thirsty souls
We all here will bathe under
heavenly showers
I will not text anyone about
the climate change
I will not cry because of
racism
I will not lie in my bed
Watching the breaking news.
I will not suffer anymore
Here, just me and you dwell in
the honey rivers
The delicious touch our fingers
sweetly
Here, where there is no sky
The curtains of eternal love
wave to us
Like a very long kiss, the soul
and these distant things that
are longed for.
Another chapter of life will
soon open
The butterflies would love to
jump and the frogs would wish to
fly
Me and you will soon melt
In one cup of thoughts and
feelings I will be there
waiting for you
In a porch covered by
caramel
There, my right hand on my
chest
Breathing through air made of
poetry I am touched by
generous spirits
And thankful delights
When the sky falls down,
A great gate will soon appear
In the midst of nowhere
And a holy voice from the
upstairs
Will call us
Come here, come here
This is the end of the life
circus
Then we all will obey
Satisfaction will water our
thirsty souls
We all here will bathe under
heavenly showers
I will not text anyone about
the climate change
I will not cry because of
racism
I will not lie in my bed
Watching the breaking news.
I will not suffer anymore
Here, just me and you dwell in
the honey rivers
The delicious touch our fingers
sweetly
Here, where there is no sky
The curtains of eternal love
wave to us
Like a very long kiss, the soul
and these distant things that
are longed for.
Prayers from Our House Roof
We were boiling bananas on the roof of our
house.
Mother’s laughter clutched the heart of my
ears.
She was gossiping with a neighbor.
Mother was storytelling, sweet as poetry. I loved
To watch her tongue play the music of conversation.
They worked on their knees, their noses
colored by wood smoke. Boiling bananas
was like a prayer.
We whispered, sang with faces lifted up,
We made art through peeling bananas,
slicing them into pieces to boil on the
fire, hoping for a kiss on a cheek
From a bird; an old hymn bathing our
exhausted souls.
At the roof's edge, I overlooked a cavernous
grotto,
and I saw God cooking for children
like me. I watched him prepare the dinner
table for them in heaven,
A kingdom of mercy. I stretched my arms
to touch the magic, then ran to my
mother, whimpering
That I saw God cooking for the children.
She smiled but continued talking with her
neighbor. I yelled
At my mother for attention, pointing, but
she just smiled. I kept watching God make
delicious food for one hundred children
gathered on their knees around him,
longing in awe. I waved to them,
But they didn’t notice me. I imagined
the smell from our rooftop carried a
kind of hope.
Under my bare feet, banana peels and two
bowls, one for us and the other for the
hungry people
In our neighborhood. It became a ritual
ever since one hundred children had died
of hunger,
One hundred innocent souls vanished.
I swear I saw God cooking for them,
but no one believed me; they just kept
smiling.
house.
Mother’s laughter clutched the heart of my
ears.
She was gossiping with a neighbor.
Mother was storytelling, sweet as poetry. I loved
To watch her tongue play the music of conversation.
They worked on their knees, their noses
colored by wood smoke. Boiling bananas
was like a prayer.
We whispered, sang with faces lifted up,
We made art through peeling bananas,
slicing them into pieces to boil on the
fire, hoping for a kiss on a cheek
From a bird; an old hymn bathing our
exhausted souls.
At the roof's edge, I overlooked a cavernous
grotto,
and I saw God cooking for children
like me. I watched him prepare the dinner
table for them in heaven,
A kingdom of mercy. I stretched my arms
to touch the magic, then ran to my
mother, whimpering
That I saw God cooking for the children.
She smiled but continued talking with her
neighbor. I yelled
At my mother for attention, pointing, but
she just smiled. I kept watching God make
delicious food for one hundred children
gathered on their knees around him,
longing in awe. I waved to them,
But they didn’t notice me. I imagined
the smell from our rooftop carried a
kind of hope.
Under my bare feet, banana peels and two
bowls, one for us and the other for the
hungry people
In our neighborhood. It became a ritual
ever since one hundred children had died
of hunger,
One hundred innocent souls vanished.
I swear I saw God cooking for them,
but no one believed me; they just kept
smiling.
