asmarani makes prayer by Safia Elhillo
MARGINALIA • SKIP TO THE POEM
1.
I find myself at the bottom of the barrel again. Scraping at whatever I can scrape. Again and again. Again and again. What is insanity, and I don’t say that lightly.
2.
I’m exhausted at wearing my pain around my neck like an identification card. I’m exhausted of being apologetic for being this way, and yet I can’t find any other way to be.
3.
Every time I patch myself up, another wound blooms somewhere, in some corners of my self I thought I’d already killed.
asmarani makes prayer
Safia Elhilloverily everything that is lost will be
given a name & will not come back
but will live forever& verily a border-shaped wound will
be licked clean by songs naming
the browngirl in particular verily she
will not heal but verily the ghosts will
not leave her alone verily when asked how
she got her name if telling the truth she
will say [a woman died & everything
wants a home]
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This poem appeared in The January Children by Safia Elhillo, published by the University of Nebraska Press, 2017. Shared here with profound gratitude.
Read more works by Safia Elhillo • Find books by this poet • Or view my library
Explore poems in pursuit of: the body • identity • loss • Or browse the index
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[expand title=”Dear Reader” tag=”h6″]
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—
wmloving
{{{ <3 }}}
Briana
I am holding your heart in my heart. I am imagining you, wherever you are, surrounded by light. I am asking all good powers that be to hold you and rock you, keep you safe and bring healing to your every wound. Much love, dearest T.
beth@portychalkstorm
You and I, let’s go to the recycling bank together with all the bottles we can find and smash them, I mean really smash them as hard as we can, until, until we are laughing or crying or maybe just breathing just that much more.