Wednesday, June 3, 2015

body.


i never really had a sense of home
so i’ve made my body a home
for me and others.

my fingers gave birth to soundscapes
my vocal chords vibrated with songs of joys and distress.
my arms have held together what threatened to fall apart
my eyes have invited vulnerability and trust
my lips have loved and reassured
my shoulders carried burdens, but never broke
my legs wrapped around lovers in their moments of ecstasy
the back of my knees served as canvases, for those who truly indulged.

i never really had a sense of home
so i’ve made my body a home
for me and others.

so dont you dare teach me
to hate it.

Sunday, February 1, 2015

strength.



you admired my strength
it shone through, you said
a pillar reminding you not to fuck with me
strength: quiet and pulsating
laced with courage for vulnerability.

you admired my strength the way a master admires a well-built human being at a slave auction.


"she can handle it"
maybe you admired it because you knew that however many times you play rough with me i may waver but always stand tall, never breaking.
and you could walk away
guilt-free.


i did not spend years cultivating this
only for you to test its limits.
i made this to share. to walk with loved ones.
to wear my wounds open
and to heal them with my own tongue.

goddess

soft. vulnerable. hopeful.
every time.
maybe i’m foolish
or forgetful
or insanely courageous.


maybe a goddess
with infinite capacity
for forgiveness.

bedouin

my bedouin roots prepare me
for the harshness of matters of the heart.
nomadic, not by choice but by necessity.
when the well runs out
when the resource stops regenerating
i pack light and move on.

when i find my new oasis
i make a home out of small corner spaces
like an inconvenient guest
ready to leave whenever she is asked
whenever the wells run dry

i pack light and move on
i pack light and move on
i pack light and move on

over and over and over again.

Thursday, January 1, 2015

as if.


you look at my limp limbs
my poker face
my indifference
in horror and astonishment

your brow furrows
your lips curl
when you hear the accusation against you
you wail and wail of protest and defense

as if you did not hear my cries when you pushed me down
as if i did not beg and plead
as if i did not reach out