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When I Met God for the First Time
by Amirah Al Wassif
The
God I know works as a baker in a local shop.
From time to time, I see him feeding the kittens breadcrumbs soaked in milk.
He is not as huge as the religious men tell us;
his hand is small, a normal size like all of ours.
He even has a red mole above his left eyebrow,
just like my bank employee's uncle.
One time, I saw him smoking his pipe while his eyes were tearful.
I asked him in an inaudible voice,
"What is the matter, O God? Are you alright?"
God exhaled his smoke, creating millions of clouds above my head.
Then he looked directly at me.
At that moment, I cautiously approached him; after all, he is God.
And I heard the meow of a cat under his arm.
I stood in amazement, inhaling the scent of fresh bread
while observing the secret stash of kittens,
watching all these flying cats escaping from under his arm.
Diaries on Planet Earth by Amirah Al Wassif
Do you know what it feels like when salt
gradually dissolves in your mouth?
Through the television, I hear the news reporter
shouting, “The world is on fire!” On the screen, I see the remains of a child,
a bloodstained shirt, and a small, terrified kitten crying in a corner.
My grandfather is smoking hashish in the living room while my grandmother sits, sighing
in frustration at the mess scattered everywhere.
I check my WhatsApp messages before
I forget. There’s one from my ex. He still wants to come back to me, even though
he’s now married with two children.
I feel sorry for children in general—coming
into an unknown world, one they don’t understand, simply because someone else wanted
them to!
My grandfather bursts into laughter, high from the hashish, then points at
the body of a dead child on the news broadcast, shouting, “It’s World War III!”
My
grandmother clutches her pearl rosary, contemplating the image of a starving child that
suddenly appeared on her phone screen. She whispers, as she often does, “Poor thing,”
before rising to prepare the lavish dinner table.
How
I Discovered a Planet on My Grandmother's Forehead by Amirah Al Wassif My grandmother whispers in my ear, “When will
you smile?”
I raise my hand to the sky, trying to lift this purple mountain resting on my
shoulder, but to no avail. Grandmother begins to braid my hair, stained with henna, and
she sings one of the songs from the tales of One Thousand and One Nights. I cough
forcefully into my hand, for the mountain I carry is about to kill me.
Grandmother continues to sing with her sweet voice while she stirs the pot of boiling milk
on the stove with her prosthetic hand. The color of the milk looks similar to the color
of the ripples of the mountain I carry. I resent my grandmother because she sings.
I dream of falling asleep on her chest to plant more sunflower trees around her sagging
nipples. Grandmother eats cheese and lettuce while continuing to stir the boiling milk
with her metal hand. I see seven stars falling into the sea of her olive-green eyes.
I continue to gaze at her face as if I were painting her. Here I see a rabbit jumping out
of her nostril, trying to tease me. It is mocking me. I shift the mountain slightly off
my shoulder so I can breathe.
I am coughing again while my grandmother continues to
sing. I discover a new planet on her wrinkled forehead. The inhabitants of the planet are
waving at me. I forget about the mountain I carry on my shoulder and melt away.
How to Raise a Monster Within You? by Amirah Al Wassif I
am raising a massive monster inside my throat,
and every time I feed it spinach, it
craves more meat.
I used to think it was vegetarian.
Here it is: the monster is moving inside me now.
It is gnawing at me, piece by piece.
I tell it, “Calm down,”
but it wants to watch Netflix.
I tell it, “Calm
down,”
but it wants to reach the summit of Everest.
I tell it, “Calm
down,”
but it wants to go on a romantic date with a butterfly.
My aunt advises
me to read it a spell.
I pretend to agree with her, then I run away to smoke a cigarette
with it.
Here it is, laughing again.
Its crimson
teeth hide the Tower of Babel within.
My mother asks me to clip its wings.
I nod my head and then plant a new rose between its eyes.
The neighbors complain about
its voice.
I tell them a lie: I punished it yesterday.
The sheikh says in the Friday sermon that it should be stoned.
I run towards the farthest
Silver Star to dip my soul into it.
Remember
to Carry Me in Your Heart by Amirah Al Wassif Remember to carry me in your heart
when the world tightens around us.
Remember to kiss my forehead
whenever the fires of the world's hatred scorch it.
Remember to build me a thousand
ships
and a thousand ports with each dawn.
Remember
to whisper "I love you"
to me for the millionth time.
Remember to chew the food
on my behalf in times of exhaustion.
Remember to arrange my priorities
in times of chaos.
Remember to mend my broken wings
after the battles.
Remember to admire the shape of my lips
and the
window of my eyes.
Remember to embrace those little pink wishes
that fill my cheeks.
Remember to hold me in your hands
like a puzzle that has baffled the entire world.
Remember
to remember all of this.
Amirah
Al Wassif is an award-winning published poet. Her poetry collection, For
Those Who Don’t Know Chocolate, was published in February 2019 by Poetic
Justice Books & Arts. Her illustrated children’s book, The Cocoa Boy
and Other Stories was published in February 2020. Her poetry book, How
to bury a curious girl, was published by Bedazzled Ink Publishing
Company in 2022.
Her
poems have appeared in several print and online publications, including South
Florida Poetry, Birmingham Arts Journal, Hawaii Review, The Meniscus, Chiron
Review, The Hunger, Writers Resist, Right Now, Reckoning, New
Welsh, Event Magazine, and many others.
Her
latest book, The Rules of Blind Obedience, will be released in December
2024.
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