Amirah Al Wassif

Another chapter of life

by Amirah Al Wassif

When the sky fall down,

Another chapter of life will soon open

The butterflies would love to jump and the frogs would wish to fly

Me and you will soon melt

In one cup of thoughts and feelings I will be there waiting for you

In a porch covered by caramel

There, my right hand on my chest

Breathing through air made of poetry I am touched by generous spirits

And thankful delights

When the sky fall down,

A great gate will soon appear

In the midst of nowhere

And a holy voice from the upstairs

Will call us

Come here, come here

This is the end of the life circus

Then we all will obey

Satisfaction will water our thirsty souls

We all here bathe under heavenly showers

I will not text anyone about the climate change

I will not cry because of racism

I will not lie in my bed

Watching the breaking news.

I will not suffer anymore

Here, just me and you dwell in the honey rivers

The delicious touch our fingers sweetly

Here, where no sky

The curtains of eternal love wave to us Like a very long kiss the soul and these distant things that longed for.

The same old story

by Amirah Al Wassif

Every time I start to laugh

Somebody invents a new way of laughter

I run to the closest mirror

Burying my swollen face

Counting my disappointments on my fingers

No music in the background

Only the cracking of my bones

Do you hear it?

I see you on the walls

Your purple face waving

Like a curse

I put a hand on my right chest

Singing as if the world dissolved

Between my knees

In this story

Adam didn’t eat the forbidden fruit

Just Eve who did

He was busy

Creating a sudden plot twist

God upstairs

Watching in silence

In the mirror

I see your favorite song

Turned into a worm

Crawling toward my belly

Your face

Without features

I ask you

Are you hungry?

You ask me

How did you survive?

And the rest is history.

To bury a curious girl

by Amirah Al Wassif

When I was younger,

I stood on a mountain of pillows

With a brave decision to swallow a whole finger.

My father insulted me because I am curious.

All his life he wished to have a non-trouble baby whatever girl or boy.

My forefathers preferred to bury baby girls rather than put them

In carriages and sing them a lullaby.

I was born with a great motivation to scratch the sky upon my shoulders, crazy monkeys and heavy weights,

I used to bake my grief each night

And through the daylight, while they’re trying to sell me,

I spend my time calculating the distance between my gender and my awaited funeral.

When I took my first steps, my tribe circled around me like bees.

They approached figuring out that I have thighs and breasts. They tucked me in the obedience pocket, they dwelled me in an iron cage.

They ate my wings, my ears. When I was younger,

I crawled toward my father’s shoulders, I whispered, “how far

does the world extend?”

He frowned and replied “just, look at the space between your legs."