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 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Red Fox
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Red Fox
I am Muslim.
Full of mistakes,
And far from a good one.

I'm a ****.
Not too far from a hood one.

I know whoever reads this
Has been labeled before
And not always good ones.

But You and I are the same,
Honestly Understanding Mistake And Nproving.
We can't ever perfect.
So for those with labels,
Embrace them.
For your only Human
And labels are just small puddles in the rain
So roll up your pants
And dance through the pain.
Wanted to write something uplifting for Lunch.
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Dev A
Left Behind
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Dev A
I miss you
Do you miss me?

We used to be so close
We were best friends
Talking, texting, being together all the time.

But I realized a harsh reality.
I was the only one to make an effort.

You've moved forward with your life
Living in a new place
Making new friends

While I'm miles away
Wondering how things changed from one second to the next
Trying to figure out why I'm not good enough.

We used to share everything
All our secrets and our dreams
All our fears and our nightmares

But somewhere down the road
You ran ahead and left me here behind.

You left me here behind.
Now I'm alone
Trying to move forward
With an emptiness where you lived.
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Lonnie Nichole
Be tender with my soul.
I know that we are only warm body
touching warm body.
Slow swaying.
Still, I am fragile.

Midnight moon,
Afternoon swoon.
Your body hums when it feels me,
and I think it is my favorite sound.

Dark eyes.
Skin lullabies.
Friction makes music,
and our melody is invading my brain.
We are harmonious.

Sit still, sit, lay, roll, sleep.
You are the only thing that consists of me when we are here.
Soft sheets, rough breaths.
Smile against my mouth gently and caress my forearms.
I can love you.
I will stay.
Sensual Series
 Dec 2015 Fatıma
Ariana Robinson
We're all mirrors in our fragile states
Enough pressure against us, our surfaces
Cause cracks across our faces
Some have shattered beneath
Shards of us fall to the ground
Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who's the most broken among us all?
 Nov 2015 Fatıma
Kelly Hogan
 Nov 2015 Fatıma
Kelly Hogan
I'm sorry
That I am who I am

I'm sorry
I can't control my world

I'm sorry
If I did something wrong

I'm sorry
If I did something right

I'm sorry
If I didn't do anything at all.

I'm sorry
For the hate

I'm sorry
For the love

For all the pain inside you
And inside me.

And mostly I'm sorry
That I don't know how to get rid of it.
I say "I'm sorry" at least 50 times a day. Trying to delve into why I do this or why I think I need to apologize.
 Nov 2015 Fatıma
I have a closet
In the back of my mind

It is where I chose to hide
All the things I want to deny

The problems
The hurt
All have a place
In my mind

The closet

Sometimes it doesn't close
Because of an overflow
But I chose to ignore it

When I'm depressed
The demons break free
And they control me

The closet door is broken
And my self control is lost

The hurt
The pain
The loss
The problems

My demons

They strangle me
They tear at my heart
They tear at my soul

All because my closet door
Is broken

Hope seems lost

But I work
And so does my construction crew
To fix my closet door
To contain my demons

To give me hope once more
 Nov 2015 Fatıma
Ariel Baptista
From the Greek

When I heard the word I felt it
And I looked it up
In my old red dictionary

I could have used the Internet,
I suppose

But I like to run my forefinger down pages
Of words

I read the definition
And I felt it

We are diaspora.

Am I using it correctly?

We are a diaspora.

From the Greek

From the green valley of Ottawa
From Scotland
From Ireland on wooden boats

From the French village thirteen children
From the mines in the North
From Poland and from Germany

From the churches and
From the Blueberry patches
From the Island Manitoulin

From the dark lake Kagawong
From Kinburn and Arnprior
From Markstay and from Sudbury

From Waterloo
From Kitchener, Michener
From the Suburbs


From the Suburbs
From the red bricks, red currants
And geraniums
From green island cabins

From the desert


From the desert
From the potholes and pipes
From the salty wind
Cracked Caspian Sea
From the middle of the east of nowhere.

From the mountains


From the mountains
From the crystal water fountains
From the tram bells
On the cobblestone streets
From the torrents of the Rhein

From the white cross


From the white cross
On the green hill
From the river Laurence
From the French and from the English
Plains of Abraham

We are diaspora
We are a diaspora

From the Greek

How did it end up here on my tongue?

It is diaspora.
It is a diaspora
Diaspora is a diaspora

And I wonder if it misses its other pieces
The way that I miss mine


There is no
Roping us back together now

There is no
Home to go back to

There is no
Point of meeting
Of reunion

White steeple in our old town

Yellow slide in our backyard

Old folks on an old farm

Walled house on a hill

Luzernerring 93

Familiar riverwater

There is no
Ancient Greek anymore

Only fragments of fragments
Of roots of stems of words
In different dialects

There is no
Place for you to belong,

You’ve been sliced to pieces
And scattered
Into the wind

When people ask you
Where you are from

You say simply
From the Greek


From the Greek

When people ask me
Where I am from

I say simply
From the diaspora.
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