By Amirah Al Wassif
The holes that carved upon my forehead; Reveal how old am I My children had eaten their self From a very young age. I'm the mother Who peels the hours? With the patience's knife. Watching their severed heads Sparkling from upstairs Like stars. I am the mother, I shout Trying to call them by the name My children are so many Some on the trees Some behind the clouds Some riding horses in the sky Some washing their bodies In my veins. Some rubbing their noses In the heart of your fresh towels. Although, they have died For long centuries There are no signs of Their death. No gravestones for them I'm the only one Who grieves over them? I'm here standing in pride Don't come for finding me. I'm the mother, I shout The darkness cutting my throat. I'm the detailed tale My children aren't your bruises They are the rhythm of Your breath Although, they all died This isn't the end of the world. We must have fun Sometimes you have to turn Your lights off For the sake of Bathing in the moonlight
Diaries from Jail
Between my teeth, there is a gap That kind could disturb a whole content. My history began the very moment I escaped away from the herd. When the leaves of our trees turned from green to red. When our leader's head became our new sun. The children circled around me, pushing me violently with such a great force. They have believed the rumors which said I belong to the dangerous genre who dares to dream. I have been trapped by the religious gang. I screamed at my people's faces. They planned to tuck me in the obedience pocket. I had no one on my side so I cupped my hands and knelt down to ask their mercy. Stop dreaming! They cried out I yelled in a miserable Tone, my heart sank in fear They built an ironic box for me but I lived like a bird that sees itself in a larger place although its body is still caged
The Rules of Blind Obedience
My people hate feeding The black cats They say these animals Are signs of evil They also refuse Using salt They believe It is a reflection of sadness. They also treat me Like a great sin They imprisoned me in a box With an opening For teasing me From time to time. I see the light But couldn't catch it Next to me a dead fish Although I am starving I can't touch it The fish is powerless Just like me. The darkness presses Against my tongue My limbs are numb My wings were lost in a dream. I am waving to someone In the mirror Someone looks like me In a strange way.
How the War Tamed Me?
I've been raised by a ghost, Who used to spin Around the tombstones Twice each war. I am the daughter of Dust and blood My eyes swept The wide streets Seeking for the light. We sleep wide-eyed Covering with the darkness Shivering from the cold. The ice between my shoulders Never melting. I'm calling my family members Through my dreams I see my mother Walks on her knees Towards the heaven In my dreams She has wings Like a butterfly. I've been raised by a nightmare Which pushed me away To nowhere I was surrounded by The bodies of dead Holding a ticking bomb Wondering why am I here Waiting for going back To my mother's womb.
Amirah Al Wassif is a published poet. Her poetry collection For Those Who Don’t Know Chocolate was published in February 2019 by Poetic Justice Books & Arts. Her illustrated children book The Cocoa Boy and Other Stories was published in February 2020.
Her poems have appeared in several prints and online publications including South Florida Poetry, Birmingham Arts Journal, Hawaii Review, The Meniscus, The Chiron Review, The Hunger, Writers Resist, Right Now, and several publications.