Coming Home

On failed attempts of coming home, wrong priorities and learning better.

Art by Barooja (IG @barooja)

Autumn in March

I combined words I’d written at different points in life for this one.

What I aim to communicate through these words is the feeling of every day being mundane, possibility not exciting you anymore and being hopeless.

This Place

Every place I’ve stayed in or been to gives rise to certain feelings. Often, I subconsiously relate places to objects, colours and certain words. (Is that some sort of synesthesia?)

This is one of those poems, about one particular place.

 

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The World in Slumber

The world is bathed in

A dull shade of honey

Like the blood is

seeped out of its veins

It’s still pretty

Still striking

How a mustard veil

Can make the sky look new

When the world slumbering underneath

Is dead.

– Saadia

The Sun turned Cold

I’ve loved the mountains

That cradled my home

That held us firm

When lives were lost

And now they disappear

Behind a gust of sand

And I’m left sobbing

At all that my land has endured

And all that it still must.

-Saadia

Atlas

 

Holding the weight of the sky

And trying to piece a smile

As my knees give away

Counting the wretched seconds

Till the horizon beckons

And I groan

As I fade away.

– Saadia

Spring

 

Its beautiful.

The tiny velvet blue petals and white dandelions, the sparrow and its hearth, the pine. The budding grass, lush and young, the marbled columns, long roads and the singing of the rare scarlet bird. Its magic and I have fallen for it many times but there is this dark place inside, where the night reigns and stars peek through sometimes, smoke and carnage, broken bones and tired limbs, grey and raven, overlapping and drowning, spring has not found a home yet. Not yet.

– Saadia

Warmth

1. You may have a dark sky

Fractured by city lights

But I have an orange veil

That reminds me of summer nights.

And a promise that the sky holds

Our dreams and our ambition

Trying to make a sense

Out of one broken world.

So today, I pick up the pieces

And arrange them skyward

And I know that these colors

Will be enough

To form another sunset

Tinged with the warmth

Of a last hug.

– Saadia

Run

Run, kid, run till your lungs ache and your shins split open. Run till you leave the dead earth hanging on the shattered horizon. Run, leave the immaculate fields behind, plains where the grass is too green, run and strip the unnecessary. Run, love, run till your eyes have drowned in an ocean of stinging tears, run till the trees drift away into an illusional distance. Run till the rain has drenched your bones and the snow nestles in your hair. Run till you are carved raw, run till you find the abode of your demons and the abbey of your angels, run , for the sake of your damned life, run. Run till colours drink themselves up in the sky and the night folds into herself.

– Saadia

Frozen

This frozen lake,

and the sharp pine needles,

still linger like

its day one,

and the past wasn’t supposed,

to hurt ,

if you didn’t let it,

but I’ve always let it,

and tonight I am lying down,

taking a sip,

of broken stars ,

while its on my mind,

Is this all we have,

all we really are?

~ Saadia

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