I Remember The Itch To Grow Up,
I remember the itch to grow up,
To be strong and tall
like everyone else in their lives.
Shift to the portal of future
that held only bright light and nothing else.
At that time, I didn't believe in tragedy,
The galaxy in my eyes blinded it away.
For I was just a child aiming at the moon,
With no worry of the past and present
I only know the moon and it's dreams.
The school days were a breeze,
My childhood, a well lit summer.
I didn't see the hurt in the olders
or the treachery in their shadows.
I just spoke, spoke my heart out.
But the path to the light was so endless,
So long and exhausting with experiences,
With no shade and no arm to lean on.
It hurt, with the realisation of nothingness
And the dejection of reality.
I, now itch to go back in time,
Steal the deluded, innocent memories
And orbit them in my mind, until the reel
is torn and the reality fades,
But my conscious wants to at least let
the happiness linger with younger me.
If not her, then who else?
Deserving more to keep high the expectations,
to cling onto a deserving future.
Deserving more to feel the warmth in cold tiles
Because I see her and can't help but think I was her.
~ Umme Ayman.
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Nayyirah Waheed, from Nejma
[Text ID: “all the women. / in me. / are tired.”]
why we climb
—
they spoke often
of earning wings
and it brings
me to broken tears
I’ve thrown so much of myself into rainy weather
seeding, growing vines of contour feathers
It’s the heavy heart I fight.
And I can’t seem to take flight.
But when a new place calls,
all I need is a ride
maybe
I was meant to glide
.•.peako green•.•
Windward the kite swirls indefinitely.
The thread stings my palm like a new cut.
And I let go off it.