Monday, October 7, 2013

Marriage: It Isn’t Really A Choice

I go to bed with ideas lately
after hearing women speak through the radio.
The women on the radio are free.
I wonder if they know about me, a girl
who lost her smile at fifteen
when I was married to a man older than my father.
I was a child decorated with henna and borrowed gold.
I don’t remember smiling.
Time moves slowly
as I sit under the sun.
When I sell mangos in the market, I think of going away.
Now I have gold of my own, small pieces I bargain for
from the other market women
and bury under our hut.
I listen to the radio to learn how to speak
like a city woman.
I save newspaper pictures of dresses I want to buy
when I go there.
I will keep my head covered.


Nimo H. Farah 
Copyright © 2013

Autumn’s Second Call

Autumn’s second call
for the leaves.

Golden fall –
engraved on yellow trees.

“Hold me” –
embraced me.

“Try to see” –
neglected me.

Many fears –
pierced me.

“Trust me” –
part of me.

“Become free” –
treated me.

Kindly.
Floating gently –

A golden leaf
at autumn’s second call.

Pen 'N' Paper
Copyright © 2013

The Old Iris

From Home ... 
The dust of those who have gone before us
The empty houses of our beloved ones
The only cloud on the blue skyI call from home.

Trees of our home, and the old builders 
that only build the land for 20 years
Expected the youth would be with them!

Wisdom of our grandfather
Planting on our earth

I'm the rock that shamelessly 
forgot where his roots are. 

Back Home
Where my neighbours still visits me
Pure like Lily, or more like the white cloud 
The days will come and the sun is right behind me.

Home, I call
I'm right behind that door
And the old Iris is with me.


ShadiatiQue
Copyright © 2013

Where Hearts Are Remade

He scatters you with trials that seems to make you drown
Even if you migrate to Chinatown
By any means the struggle is never to make you frown
For He loves you more than your Umm, you know better don’t be a clown

For He’s Al-Waduud, an incomparable love only from Him
Above He’s love fills your emptiness like a perfect matching gloveNo matter how hard
His tests shove His ever waiting for you to raise your hands to Him above 

You see the tears He made you shed
And the pain He made your heart bled
His wisdom was never to make you dread
But to enlighten this dunyah is not for you, and triumph is what lays ahead 

But many of us Is this fleeting world we choose Though we know it’s a vanishing magic cruise 
Yet we run after it for all the disappointing bruise
 The attachment of this play will make your heart loose

For I swear By all His beautiful names, Only through Him is where shattered hearts in victory exclaims
It’s a reality! Don’t think I am playing your mind any games
Through ALLAH-The Almighty is where broken, hopeless, fearful, saddened hearts in peace reclaims

When the thunder of calamity strikes, 
Where you find all the mountains of the world assemble to your chest
To crush you , to make you drop tears of rain
And everywhere you placed hope is gone with the wind
Remember in Allah Alone is where HEARTS ARE REMADE
He strikes you to polish your soul what a beautiful trade
He rebuilds you over and over no matter how many times you strayed
Pure HEART HE seeks, hereafter is the heart that is weighed 

You see ALL the struggles HE put you through is the road to lead you to HIM
so only through Him your heart is beautifully remade 

Zahra Hussein Ali
Copyright © 2013

Wind of Somalia

I see the grass bowing down 
The air has cleared 
The smoke of 20 years has gone 
Eyes that were blind can now see again 
The tricks of the lying hyena 
The web of deceit spun by the spider 
Everything is made clear
The trees are shaking 
The shadows do not want to be relieved
They are scared 
Shouting for everyone not to look
Turn away from Somalia
Go away
Afraid that the world will see the blue diamond under the ashes 
But the wind is picking up 
The ashes are falling away 
It is happening 
Don't you know that it is Impossible to stop the wind
So shake with fear 
Cry a tear or two
But you can't stop it 
Lady Somalia has woken up 
She needs help to stand 
Until she finds her strength once more 
You can't stop the wind

Sindiya Darman
Copyright © 2013

He was a child

He has seen it all.
The death of his sisters and brothers,
his neighbors and father,
the young and the old.
In his eyes, the story of their death is told.

Family dead or not to be found,
Going to sleep to deafening sounds,
while another explosion trembles the ground.

Bullets fly through the sky,
Killing blindly with no thought to who will die,
A cousin,
a son,
a friend,
a brother,
an infant who cries out for his mother.

He was a child,
his father a regular civilian,
Now he's a statistic,
they say he is one in a million.


Arwa Abdulkadir Mohamud
Copyright © 2013

The Making of Me

It was a normal afternoon
And I was scrolling down Facebook
Statuses coiled up with rants
Started popping up
You know, the same old
Then there was one with a ‘sister’
Kneeling down, feeding a dirty old man
With a sign that said ‘ homeless, need food.’

You know, the same old
Signs you see, scrolling down Hasting
But, the picture itself was
Kind off

I mean, technically speaking
I was supposed to see
The woman with large “ S-sign’
While, I awed ‘ a wonderful women’
Don’t get me wrong, I think it was nice
But, Why?
Why was this in a social media sight?
Did she request it?

It was like when I see those
African missionary work
“ Amazing grace , how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found “

Is pounded into our eardrums
And the face of my long lost cousins
Appears, cover, coded with
The soft dust of the Mogdishu

But, the smiles of thousand
Of the children of Jammah
Playing Dumnad
Is like an unheard moment
Never captured in history

So, I continued to ask myself why
Why do we find a must to throw 25 cents
But are unable to give a simple hello
Why are we able to talk about ‘ revolutionizing’
But are unable to stop the judgments
That have released bombs
In our word
Since, the falling of Adam and Eve
Destroying the last seed of humanity

The dust of whys
Began polluting my brain
And I was in need of
Eco-friendly environment
Of answers

And God heard my cry
And send John
A nice old man
With a smile
That made the sun shine

And he simply looked at me
And said’ what do you think?”
At first I thought, huh
What do you think?
Of what?

So, I went on a tangent
And said
I think the sky looks better with that pinkish color
I think the heart is really an oval shape
I think wars were really fought with light-beams
I think the wind dancing forms the best beat
I think…
And before I was going to complete that answer
He looked at me
And said no
And his deep blue eyes
Glared right into me
And he said ‘ what do you think of love ?’
That was the moment, I found my answer
‘ I think, we don’t know what love is”

Hannah Ali
Copyright © 2013

What do you think?

It was a normal afternoon
And I was scrolling down Facebook
Statuses coiled up with rants
Started popping up
You know, the same old
Then there was one with a ‘sister’
Kneeling down, feeding a dirty old man
With a sign that said ‘ homeless, need food.’

You know, the same old
Signs you see, scrolling down Hasting
But, the picture itself was
Kind off

I mean, technically speaking
I was supposed to see
The woman with large “ S-sign’
While, I awed ‘ a wonderful women’
Don’t get me wrong, I think it was nice
But, Why?
Why was this in a social media sight?
Did she request it?

It was like when I see those
African missionary work
“ Amazing grace , how sweet the sound,
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost but now am found “

Is pounded into our eardrums
And the face of my long lost cousins
Appears, cover, coded with
The soft dust of the Mogdishu

But, the smiles of thousand
Of the children of Jammah
Playing Dumnad
Is like an unheard moment
Never captured in history

So, I continued to ask myself why
Why do we find a must to throw 25 cents
But are unable to give a simple hello
Why are we able to talk about ‘ revolutionizing’
But are unable to stop the judgments
That have released bombs
In our word
Since, the falling of Adam and Eve
Destroying the last seed of humanity

The dust of whys
Began polluting my brain
And I was in need of
Eco-friendly environment
Of answers

And God heard my cry
And send John
A nice old man
With a smile
That made the sun shine

And he simply looked at me
And said’ what do you think?”
At first I thought, huh
What do you think?
Of what?

So, I went on a tangent
And said
I think the sky looks better with that pinkish color
I think the heart is really an oval shape
I think wars were really fought with light-beams
I think the wind dancing forms the best beat
I think…
And before I was going to complete that answer
He looked at me
And said no
And his deep blue eyes
Glared right into me
And he said ‘ what do you think of love ?’
That was the moment, I found my answer
‘ I think, we don’t know what love is”

Hannah Ali
Copyright © 2013