asomewhatwritingdesk

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

I think about the times my friends and I laid on the cold pavement,

Where the afternoon clouds seemed much more important

Than the dirt from the cars that passed by.

We laid on each other’s lap,

Picked flowers to make our friendship bracelets,

And shared secrets we thought we should hide from the world.

My friends and I counted the planes that passed by.

We talked about traveling, working, and living on our own

As adults with freedom and independence.

No one told us about the heaviness that comes with adulthood;

How we would be left alone on our own cold pavement,

And how our friendship bracelets would eventually wither with time.

Years later, I learned to make time to watch the afternoon clouds.

I draw flowers to give to my friends,

Sharing the kindness we hope to receive from the world.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

When she said “I put my walls up because I worry that they may take advantage of me when they see me cry - when they see my weakness.” I felt that.

I also put my walls up because they have helped me protect myself from getting hurt.

But having my walls up also meant not letting in the support I need or want.

Having my walls up means pushing away the people who could show me how much they care. Who might tell me how much I mean to them.

And maybe they won’t mean as much to me as I do to them or vice versa.

But that’s ok.

Not everyone is the same.

Not all feelings are the same.

That’s what makes us human.

That’s what makes the world real.

Now how do I tell her that?

— AG, Excepts from my diary (May 26, 2025)

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

I walked along an empty road

Until I saw a field of grass.

I traveled alone until I reached

A dry patch of land.

It had nothing but brown soil.

After, what seems like, thousands of steps,

I arrive at a ditch.

And just as I wonder how big it is,

An earthquake hits and I fall inside.

It’s big enough to be a grave.

Finally, I wonder, “is it mine?”

Did I serendipitously reach my final resting place?

A sense of relief washes over me.

Finally, some peace and quiet.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Look at me with your beady eyes,

And tell me some pretty white lies.

That things are fine,

And a glass of red wine

Will help me remember the prize.

But my voice feels small,

Though I try to stand tall,

And I wonder when I will grow big.

As I grab my wine glass and take a swig,

I breathe and listen to the rain fall.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

“Transformation”

My anxious self turned into a mushroom in the forest.

Hidden between the trees,

Holding on to branches and soil, and

Calmed by the coolness of it all.

The wet branches, the mushy soil, and the cold breeze.

In the forest, I feel both big and small.

Small enough to be part of the ecosystem.

Big enough to make a change.

My mushroom in the forest is now loving and loved.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Hanif Abdurraqib interviewed by Ruth Awad: Joy Is Not Promised to You

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

“How do you leave behind your world of sorrow and preoccupation?”

I run to the mountains

Touch grass and rocks

Dip my feet in the stream

Feel the cold fresh water

And the painful icy breeze

From the sonorous waterfall

As the earth holds me

I am filled with stillness and tranquility

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

“Where did you come from?”

Birthed by Mother Earth

Daughter of the land and stars

Find the islands of myself

Surrounded by water that speaks

The many languages of its travellers

Uncertain about my native tongue

Yet I know this is where I belong

Where I am seen and free

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Playmates

Beyond my shell

An island to be free

The waters of curiosity

Reflect the lights and colors

From the starry sky

I stretch my hand

And invite you to play

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Tree of Life

Great Mother stands strong.

“You are not alone,” she tells me.

“You will always be loved,” she comforts me.

Despite spending a long time walking away from her,

I find myself inside the purple house,

Right in her arms.

Here, I am home.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

I dreamt that our bodies were pressed together,

And you touched me in places

We’ve only spoken about.

Then we swam in a river;

The river we talked about years back.

With a hushed voice, I finally heard

The words I longed for the most…

What do you long to hear? // AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Tender kisses

For the tender heart

That has been filling my head

With joy and sorrow all at once

— Tree of Life // AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

How can I enter someone’s dream?

I need to send them a message

Without asking whether they’re thinking of me.

How can I enter someone’s dream?

I need to send them a message

Tell them that I’ve long been a sinner,

Who yearns for the agony they have brought me.

The sleepless nights and fatigued mornings

Seem to be far better than my restful days,

Which have brought melancholy rather than peace.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Kiss me in the middle of the dead bodies

After you threaten to kill me.

No, actually - I asked you to kill me.

The gunshots faded into silence,

Like anger faded into love.

Hold me when this war is over.

Let me rest, finally, in your warm embrace.

Tonight I want to sleep with you,

Tenderly kiss you and ferociously consume you.

The world shall sleep until both of us are satisfied.

God knows, there is no space for misery when I am with you.

— AG

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Here’s to the daughters

whose fathers raised them

with so much love but little understanding.

Here’s to the daughters

who received what they needed

and were afraid to ask for more.

Love may not have been spoken,

acceptance may have been conditional;

Yet support was given nonetheless.

May we express love to our fathers

more than they expressed their love to us.

For it is important for one to give as much as they want to receive.

Hopefully with enough unconditional love…

We will gain their trust despite despite despite.

We will feel loved despite despite despite.

[asomewhatwritingdesk]

Green thumbs.

Dark midnight sky.

The succulents on the windowsill.

My laughter from afar.

I stitch these memories together, trying to make sense of what it was.

But I know it’s all slipping away.

I know you know it, too.

Farewell, stranger, farewell.

— AG