❝ come here
let me hold you
let me wash the dust from your feet
wipe the tracks from your cheeks
soothe your aching hands.
i have heard you screaming in the deep night
in the hollow of the wood
but you have found your way out now
and these shadows hold nothing
except a peace you are allowed to trust
here you are at last
and i do not begrudge you the wait
a heart is a heavy burden*
but so too is a mind ill at ease.
lay it down
lay it all down
let it rest in the cool dark earth
let it root deep elsewhere
untwine it from your bones.
it is not you and you are not it
though you have grown so close
you may be forgiven the confusion.
here is a knife to cut away what you cannot relinquish.
i promise it will not hurt. ❞
—i promise i love you too much for that.
*Howl’s Moving Castle (2004) dir. Hiyao Miyazaki
❝ it’s heavy. it’s so heavy, everything i’m carrying. i just wanna put it down, but it’s grown into me, right into my spine, around my lungs. makes it hard to breathe. makes it hard to look up. makes it hard to keep going. i don’t know how to root it out without ripping something vital out of me along with it, and i can’t reach that far back anyway. so i keep carrying it and it keeps growing heavier. ❞
—one day it's gonna grind me right into the dust
❝ my heart is so loud
it's hard to hear anything else
other than its wild rushing
through my veins
and in my ears ❞
--i don’t know how to quiet it
❝ The world is silent and still
The stars are all falling
Around us: wide open spaces
Within us: all our quiet grief
in the end). ❞
❝ a halo, a haunting, a howling ❞
author's note: sometimes you write something that isn't going anywhere, but you like it enough to share it with the world. such is the case with these three words, which kind of came out of nowhere and wouldn't go away until i wrote them down. writing, i tell you. maybe one day these words will spark a larger piece...
❝ i sit and i hold your hand.
that’s it. that’s the story.
that’s what matters.
nothing that came before,
none of the bleeding or the fighting,
the weeping or the reaping.
not the mud or the rain,
not the cold or the pain.
just you and me and your hand
because i sat and i held it
and your fingers opened
like you didn’t mind.
like it was easy.
like we could’ve been doing this
nothing else matters.
not where we’re going, or how,
not what’s to become of us,
or what’s to be done now.
i sit and i hold your hand.
that’s it. that’s the story.
there’s no before or after.
just this. just us.
just that i sit
and i hold your hand. ❞
— a break, a coming together
❝ well here is the thing
i have not written you in a long time
have not transcribed your form in dark ink and brisk movements against white
have not mulled over the fullness of you in my mouth
have not held you tender, held you sweet
held you between the arch of my fingers and the ribs about my heart
but here is the thing
it is like the tree:
twenty years ago, and again, now. ❞
—a seed planted, and replanted
❝ sweetheart i say,
and i mean something lighter than beloved
something truer than dear
something richer than honey.
sweetheart i say,
and it begins with a kiss and melts into a smile
falls to a sigh and drops to a pulse
rises in an effortless crest
ends light as air.
sweetheart, i say,
and i mean you. ❞
❝ i was feeling self-destructive
so i kissed an angel and left it at the altar ❞
--how to heal a heart that never had a chance at breaking
Sumayyah writes poetry...
...though she doesn't feel proficient enough to call herself a poet.