There is a secret;
The Secret of secrets
Beyond the imagination of our impure selves
There, lies all my unknown self
For I am a mystery yet untold.

Here, I am
But seen to be there.
There, was I
But not seen nor heard.

I was looked at, but not seen
I did not speak, but I was heard
I was not looked at, but I was seen
I was not heard, but I was listened to

This shadow is not mine but this body's
For I am not this body but this soul

—Jibril Abdulmalik ©2019

Curvature
Bending like the Willow frame
Waving at me
Like the friendly greeting of a winding lane
All the while knowing
That it's not even your sound which calls to me
No
It's just the winds of life
Whistling through the outstretched trees
Grasping at experiences which have yet to come
But in time will be
With all of the sounds and windings of a meadow stream
Your curvature and me

Surrounded by a world of complacency
Raw emotions guarded so tight
I once thought I would never be free

Now I bare my wounds on the outside
For all the world to see
For all the world to judge me