Where the Light Breaks. 

​All my life I always felt like the best memories were the ones we’d have as a family, together, despite whatever the world was throwing our way. 

I miss, especially, when we’d be vibing to old school music from the radio at 9 at night, as my father drew portraits of nostalgia with memories that stained his bare hands on the empty canvas of air before him. I’d watch him forget himself, watch him speak of his youth & all the things they did with my mother in the flames of their rebellious world, & all the while I’d be moved by how much life they have tasted, despite everything the world took away from them in return…. 

Their lives… 

Their dreams… 

Their jobs…

And in the end, while we lost ourselves in the pursuit to build something for my sister we ended up denying her the one thing she deserved to get abundantly from ourselves; a family. 

Chocolate & Chilly Mornings. 

​A friend of mine once told me how she loved my poems. The words she used were “warm & cosy” & for me it truly felt like I have grown in my writing.

 “warm and cosy” brings to my mind the image of being alone in the house on a chilly morning, preferably Saturday, my hands wringing the shaggy hairs of my blanket, as a warm cup of chocolate holds the cold off my palms. And outside I’d listen to the raindrops die & stain the window glass with sky blood, & it felt like I could never feel the cold again… & just for a moment, I would forget all manner of thought & believe it.


​It is easier 

To be


To be thunder

& lightning… 

To be rage

& flame alike… 

It is easier to let

The dam


Than to bear 

The entire might

Of the world

Landing sledgehammers 

On your back… 

It is easier to be the

Living carnage

Than the

Dead silence. 

But it is the things that

Come easy

That destroy us 

The hardest.


​Maybe this isn’t 

The right place to

Write this, 

Wrapped by the nakedness

Of dark

With the devil’s lips


Words that would never

Leave my own. 

I thought I’d find peace here, 

At the depths where

The wind doesn’t roar… 

The water doesn’t splash… 

The sun doesn’t burn… 

& where

The moon

Can take off its crown of

Dead stars

& lay behind the earth… 

I thought I’d find peace here, 

Alone with the


Of the night… 

I thought I’d find peace here… 

At the height where


Whispers life

Into newborn suns… 

But in this path I chose

I realised how much 

My demons

Feed on the loneliness, 

And this world of

Suns & stars

Becomes a void, 

And nothing is ever enough

To sate the emptiness… 

& where I thought I was


I became lost again, 

& the peace

Quickly became


Maybe this isn’t 

The right place to 

Write this, 

But it is all my fingers have

As is

The wind

To my breath… 

The blood

To my heart… 

The Shahada 

To my tongue… 

The Elements of Me. 

I was born by the womb

Of a 19 year old girl

Into the blue world, 

Cut from the bond of a love

Deep enough

To brush fingers

With the

Ocean floor. 

I was born with pain, 

& a sorrow that


My very life itself… 

She was young, 

But the world had taken

Every petal

Around her eyes, 

And even

Bees & butterflies

Would urge their wings

To ride them away

From her. 

But she let this fruit grow, 

Let it whirl & turn

And clot from


Cut for Almighty… 

I am born from the womb

Of a 19 year old girl, 

From a love that broke


And amongst the tears

I tasted for the first time

The breath of


The day was cold… 

I remember how the rain

Seemed to sting even

The tarmac, 

Taking out the warmth

For whoever

Took its path… 

I remember the clouds, 

& the sour air

That drowned

In the stench of sorrow that


From the earthen eyes

Of my mother, 

And how it felt like

Even the sky

Was sick… 

I remember the cracking,

The shatter of glass

And the shards

Beneath the world’s feet, 

As it kicked my heart sore.. 

Most of all

I remember the


The death of everything

That kept her whole

As the rain

Bathed in the voice of her cries… 

I saw the world then, 

At the first time I ever saw her cry, 

I saw the world


The fire in her eyes…

She smelled like

A dozen roses, 

Crushed and mawed

By the dryest sun

So the world could


Like rain.. 

She was outspoken, 

Never let anyone

Not hear her voice, 

But her silence… 

I heard her loudest in

Her silence… 

Like she was lost


In the chambers of her heart, 

Hoping there was

Someone outside to

Call out to her, 

But there was no sound

But echoes

Of her own ghosts… 

And yet to me, 

She was the brightest

Even within the shadows

Beneath her eyes, 

And I knew

With her, 

I will always be ash

To that fire. 

I’ve been in love with


Ever since… 


There was an allure

In the night… 

A calling… 

A spell that guides

Blind bats

In the


Of the phantom dark… 

And even in the light 

I let myself


To its very edge, 

Where the world was

Torn in between

Black & white. 

The voices were louder here… 

Of enticement & fear… 

Of danger & adventure… 

Of sin & desire… 

And in the breath of seconds

The white cloud 

I once sailed

Became entagled in


And it was all that was needed

To make me rain. 

For a long while I was

This thing that

Took away 

The sun, 

This thing that

Wrought the longest


For the

Coldest winter… 

This thing that

Brings out everything

Into its breakage, 

And leaves nothing


But once, 

In my moments, 

I met with mountains, 

And they spoke of

Life & laughter that grew

In my passing, 

And it was the only times

I fell

For the earth

It calls to me

All the time, 

This earth, 

Haunting & tormenting

The heels

At my feet, 

Ticking to the rhythm

Of my


I remember when I was told

Of his stroke, 

The urgency that tied


In my grandmother’s voice

As the weariness

Set in, 

Gathering every strength

She was left with

Into a wave


To wash her away… 

“He’s critical”

She said, 

And all of a sudden 

There were


Before my eyes

As the earth beneath me

Left an abyss

In its stead… 

I remember the fear, 

The worry that wailed

In winds


By jagged tears


From my worried mind… 

And all the while I was walking

The earth

Haunted me, 

And opened


That swallowed me whole… 


​I think there is a 


In ourselves 

Waiting to manifest,

To rage over our hearts

Like winds

Riding a hurricane, 

& tearing our walls down. 

There is a 


In ourselves

Waiting to manifest, 

& free us

From the prisons we have


Around us.