Wednesday, May 26, 2010

Sunday, May 23, 2010

maps, wait.

they don't love you like i love you.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

jay birds sing

and the passing of things.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

day nine.

wednesday. may 19, 2010.


you are greedy
in the most internal
kind of way, grabbing up 
every snatch of memory,
every bit of joy your 
fingers can grasp.

holding it tight,
building it up 
inside your chest,
keeping it all
for yourself.

you do not want
to share this place.

day eight.

tuesday. may 18, 2010. 


there is nothing
like being remembered,
like knowing that somewhere,
sometime, somehow
you left an impression
on someone.

even the round man 
who runs the corner shop,
and never takes your money. 

day seven.

monday. may 17, 2010. 


she came and sat,
filled the room with her voice,
filled the yard with her laughter.
her embraces stealing your breath,
her presence spilled out over 
the courtyard walls.

and her sorrow,
her sorrow seeped
all the way 
to the very borders
of tripoli. 

Sunday, May 16, 2010

day six.

sunday. may 16, 2010. 


she thinks maybe
this is the summer
she'll come into her gift.

if not, she can always
sit on open verandas
and drink tea over
libyan sunsets and
cuts glances from
the corners of her eyes. 

day five.

saturday. may 15, 2010.


i wonder 
if he misses his aunts cooking,
or the way his sister slept, one arm
thrown over his back.
or the way his father touched their heads
one after another 
before he left in the morning. 

i wonder if he misses
the way the sun sizzled
before it sunk, blazing,
a nigerian sunset. 

i wonder 
when he calls my aunt mama,
if he curls up at night,
young, so young,
and wishes for home
like an ache. 

day four.

friday. may 14, 2010.


the sky was grey today.
and close,
close enough to touch
if only my fingers
stretched that far. 

Thursday, May 13, 2010

day three.

thursday. may 13, 2009.


worn-out clothes, 
cross-airport races
and suitcase handle blisters
it's so, so good
just to be here. 

day two.

wednesday. may 12, 2010.


citizen m hotel
reminds me
of a dream
i had once.

life operated
by remote.

i spent the entire night
making the lights
flash from blue to green. 

reality - checking out, 

libya in lowercase - volume two, day one

tuesday. may 11, 2010.


there is nothing
more confusing 
or frustrating 
or mind-spinning
than saying goodbye,
except saying goodbye
in the middle 
of hartsfield airport's
security check. 

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

currently: amsterdam

i am safe.

alhamdulillah, alhamdullah.

gratitude for every prayer. much love.

Monday, May 10, 2010

where we were.

and when they entered,
they saw the message
on the walls

"we were here,
and now we're gone
now you are here
and we're alone

just know that we 
waited for you 
while we could,
when we were here. "

she grew up good, she grew up slow.♥.

((couldn't wait to get going, but wasn't quite ready to leave. ))

just something beautiful for you, to pass the time.

much love, much love.

Thursday, May 6, 2010


they told her to remember that there was more to her than him.

but the thing was, there wasn't.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

love feels like

it's like
into you. 

mama say

string along tales of a 
revolution born of 
spit and blood

canada, mama say
one day we go

she told me not to 
leave the house that night
not to leave 
into a darkness
full of screams and 
blackness and 

should have listened.