Is it autumn or is it me?
Is it november or is it you?
Is it the storm or is it my soul?
I can’t remember my name.
I can’t remember my destination.
I can’t remember my home.
Grey walls,
Dusty windows,
Dark wooden doors.
Where is the glowing hearth?
Where is the glimmering candle?
Where is the glittering song?
Birds chirp against the wind.
The sparrow and his brothers.
The robin and her brood.
The great tit and his clan.
Some will leave.
Some will stray.
Some will remain.
Up, up on the branches.
Far, far in the horizon.
Deep, deep in the forest.
Leaving me to my shrubs,
Leaving me to my doorstep,
Leaving me to my hearth.
Without a song….
To lull me.
To wake me.
To light me up.
Like the matches the little girl wasted.
My fingers are twisted in pain,
My head is full of decaying leaves.
My legs are heavier than stones
So heavy,
So heavy
I could sink to the bottom of
The pond.
The lake
The ocean.
Will I rise again like the skeleton lady?
Will I rise again like foamy waves?
Will I rise again like a phoenix?
It doesn’t matter if I’m too tangled for love.
It doesn’t mater if I’m a prisoner of this cycle.
It doesn’t mater if I became ashes to come back.
The dull pain,
The weighty loneliness,
The never-ending labyrinth
Nothing matters as long as I have
My wits
My wings
My words.
If I can write a line.
If I can weave a tale.
If I can stitch up another life.
It is all worth it.
Dear,
Don’t wait in the forgotten street.
Don’t wait in the never-ending night.
Don’t wait in the pouring rain.
I am not here.
I never was.
You saw a star in the distance.
You saw a glimmer in the distance.
You saw a shadow in the distance.
And you chased it all the way down here.
Mistaking me for your destiny.
Mistaking me for your last hope.
Mistaking me for the answer to your prayers.
But I am only a woman.
Chasing her own star.
Chasing her own destiny.
Chasing her own hope.
I have nothing to give anymore.
But,
Tatters.
Tears
And tales.
I gather
Dewdrops
Drops of anguish
Droplets of hope.
And I drink deep.
Like the trees after a draught.
Like an athlete after a feat.
Like a child after a long day.
Does it show in my eyes ?
Does it show in my fingertips ?
Doest it show in my stories?
The hope I try to sow.
The hope I try to grow.
The hope I try to flourish
Within me?
Was it this gleam
Was it this melody
Was it this sigh
That brought you here?
Take it,
The petals of inspiration,
The shimmer of creation,
The echoes of my poems,
Take it.
But let my sail
But let my song
But let my soul
Roving and free.
Roaming and free.
Rambling and free.
Free.
Layla Ali Sultan 