Coordinations of my intuition

Let the depths of hell open up in me
And I’ll burn in love
I’ll no longer make room for doubt but my heart’s wisdom
The truth always takes me too far
But as long as I keep an ear to the rushing sound of my feelings

like a seashell,

I’ll always find home right where I am
Because everywhere I am, I belong

callous hands, gentle tides 

Live in your why 

The what is already sowed in you 

The how is God’s rain pouring down on you 

The when is the seasons that gradually peel away your layers so you can see all the miracles nestled in your core and how you  are, in truth, ever in bloom  

The who is the bee beckoned  by the nectars of your expression, the bypasser transfixed in your admiration, the children playing in your vast fields that lend themselves to freedom, the tired labourer resting in your shade, the birds perched on your branches 

The where is the soil that protects your roots 

oak tree

He’s the duaas I didn’t dare make 

He’s the words that escape me

He’s the feelings that portray me

He’s all my feel-good memories melted together

He’s the taste of October

He’s what turquoise would sound like 

He gives my soul a home

when we’re fire

I’m a discomfort absorber. Pain dashpot. Lemme redeem myself by not reminding you of the borders that announce my existence, just to remain in your presence because I’ve learnt that love is only safe and lasting in the shade. What do I do if the darkness is too cold and the light is too sharp? Oh how deep this emptiness goes. How wide the horizon is. It runs endlessly. An unrelenting reminder of how a shadow is doomed to always lag behind.

Amor Fati

You can’t cheat the truth

It lurks in your hiding place

It hides in your dreams

It’s carved inside your eyelids so that it’s the first thing you see when it’s dark

It casts a shadow on the faces whose gaze you long for

Relentlessly it pursues you

Diligently it embraces you 
It won’t let you go until you let go of the folly that you can outstrip who you truly are..  .


barren hearts, barren lands

cold blood dried up by hot air fans

botched minds sowing  murderous plans

clenched fists shaking hands

righteous tongues nefarious clans

shriveled compassion possessive demands

the earth may remain, the horizon weaved with sunset strands
but without a vast plain and a blue sky where the sight can expand
we die – homeless, blinded and damned

all ya gotto do is say yes

i want to take my husband on this cross-country trip I’ve been wanting to make for 2 years now, through Somalia. lagoons, canyons, mountain tops, hut cafeterias, bumpy truck rides, sunset watching on rooftops, evening gatherings with newly acquired friends sitting on a mat on the house compound swatting away mosquitoes in between intense listening to juicy storytelling and belly laughs, carwo-shoppin’, aroos-hoppin’, relatives shukansi eavesdropping on us wondering why we haven’t grown disillusioned with the honeymoon phase not knowing that this is where we discovered each other, in that honeymoon zone of the soul intersection, listening to downloaded rain sounds through the phone as we lie in the dark waiting for the electricity to come back on, car drifting in the outskirts of town, trying and miserably failing to start a fire in charcoal stoves, washing laundry by hand in big basins, taking turns reading classical Somali romance novels aloud, mosquito nets coming undone in the scuffle of love making, stargazing,spontaneity abound


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