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Sirad Jul 26
"Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart"
These words from her Somali tongue
nine thousand miles away
can travel the speed of light

"It's okay. sweetheart"
Feeds the pit of my stomach
lulls the unease to sleep
only a mother can provide

"Just take care of yourself, hooyo"
Passes her lips and into my spine
new roots planting itself,
safely into the ground
*hoyoo in Somali means mom
Arshia Qasim Apr 28
I’ve lost count of the weeks.
Grief has made its own calendar.
The pandemic stopped what ambition started
I surrender.

4th March 2020:

My mother has died
I can't close my eyes tonight
not because I am afraid of falling asleep
but of waking up in a tomorrow
where she does not exist.
Behold, the audacity!
I never accepted night,
and still, the sun creeps up
across the jagged Tokyo skyline
ascending the tower ladder,
bouncing off windows,
pushing apart curtains
pouring in from all crevices
as the city flips up
person by person,
onto its stuporous hustle,
as if nothing happened.
-----------------------------------------

Amazing Grace:

A million poems came to hold up my heart
as it fell apart
in my mother's death
I had prepared for this moment,
but what preparations suffice,
when air is wrenched away from breath?
I could write the saddest lines,
sadder than Neruda's
but the tales of her glory
have a more engaging story
to tell.
What would she have said
when she saw herself tagged
in her obituary?
she always counted the likes
and read the comments I receive,
rejoicing momentarily,
in what, she claimed, was borrowed fame.
And now I grieve.
My frantic efforts to capture screenshots
whenever we face-timed,
so I could hoard
her presence.
Oh, bless her essence!
even though her skin-clad bones
had lost the cushion of flesh,
even though the bruit
of the fistula in her left arm terrified me
like a constant 'low-battery' signal,
when she managed to hug me, breathlessly,
that last time,
it was an exchange
of the most amazing grace:
her pain wrapped in patience,
mine in gratitude.
-----------------------------------------

Retrospecti­ve Realizations:

And suddenly,
I remember all the condolence messages I have ever written
and retrospectively fill them
with feel, only now revealed to me.
My best compassion and empathy paled in comparison
to this reality.
Death is inevitable; mortality, inescapable.
but life,
with its enticing persistence to carry on,
is cruel.
-----------------------------------------

The poem ends but the pain doesn't:

The real mourning starts
when the visitors leave
and the phone calls end
and the messages stop pouring in,
when you have to resume living
but the dead can't un-die.

Arshia.
22.4.2020

#onewritingaweek
#weekunknown
Keiya Tasire Sep 2019
Year 1
neglect
what-is-love ?
a falling-star
guilt & shame
more of the same

Year 2
neglect
what-is-love ?
a falling-star
guilt & shame
more of the same

Year 3
neglect
what-is-love ?
a falling-star
guilt & shame
more of the same

Year 4
neglect
what-is-love ?
a falling-star
guilt & shame
more of the same

Years 5 -
I love school!
Maybe I'll find a new mom!
1956 t0 1961
JR Jun 2019
No man is as attentive to stoplights as the one who must leave his loved ones.
s i r May 2019
Ulap sa lupa ang maputlang buhok
Sing kinang ng pilak, sing pilak ng usok
Isang obra maestrang handog ng Panginoon
Sagisag ng nakalipas na halos isang daang taon

Sa balat malinaw ang mga lumipas na panahon
Tigib sa pinong linya at kulubot
Sa mukha nama’y walang kolorete, alahas o pulbos
Kasing kinis ng balat ng masintahing musmos

Sa mga mata’y nakalubog ang karanasan at karunungan
Naipon ng mga pagkakamaling pinagdaanan
At ang mga tala sa langit, bumababa sa lupa
Napunta ang kinang sa mga matang minsan nang lumuha

Ang gaspang ng buhangin sa palad ay ipinasa
Marka ng walang katapusang pag-aalaga
Sa kanilang buhay ay alumpihit, pagod
Upang tayo ay mabuhay ng malugod.

Lahat ng sugat, pagod, galos, at kulubot
Ito’y pagmamahal ni inay na walang pag-iimbot
Sana’y maunawaan mo ang nakikita ko
Sa puting buhok at gaspang ng palad kagandahan ay totoo
Masha Yurkevich Apr 2019
To MOM:

Can I have...
I'm cold.
I'm hungry.
I'm hot.
I want...
Can I have...
Can you help me...
Why can't we...
When can we...
They hurt me...
Where are you...
Where is...


To DAD:
Where's mom?
Our moms...
jon Mar 2019
I don't think you get it.
Everyone else gets it.
You don't need to love life.
You need to learn from your lessons.
xavier thomas Jan 2019
Surpass limitations of a promised prophet,
No man can ever break your spirit of value.
It is the show and seal of nature's flawless,
My only mother, I will always love you.

I give you a lot of credit when know one else will.
Continue to work on your craft mama it’s an amazing skill.
Mastery of Sacrifices and unselfishness.

When I ask God for guidance,
He tells me to call on you.
Reminiscing faith on reliance
You never want me to quit, just push through.

Nevertheless, you are my greatest hero.
mils Oct 2018
.
I've met men
who would rather climb mountains
then raise families
they spill lies like fountains
time and time again
This is insanity

I've met mothers
Who would trade their children
For another high
Painted as they are, villains
But they still ask “why?”
As they dump it on their brothers

I’ve met parents
who don't let their kids cry
And they grow up mad
at themselves
At society
But deep down, they're sad
packing problems away on shelves
And it grows, anxiety
They try to down in Barents
For those who don't know, Barents is a sea! Feedback is very much appreciated.
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