nejma

by Nayyirah Waheed

ii

i sang a god alive for you.

some words. the way they look at you…

you are a flood in my hands.

i was every light for you.

pilgrimage

you and the poems have a lot to talk about.

acknowledge. that your being needs sweetness and cleansing. that it is sore. that you are. soft.

there are poems. before the poem.

water.

i feel my life in my mouth.

that’s not where i burn from.

weep the ...

grieve. so that you can be free to feel s...

let the poems h...

when words take off their clothes. for me. so i can write. them exactly. as they are. — skin

yes. yes i do. have the right to be this lush and neverending.

‘you are afraid of love. but love is not afraid of you.’

until there are no more bodies in your body.

my body is in the middle of a poem.

there is prayer in poem.

when i am writing i a...

sometimes i smell my parents on my words. and i weep.

we need to share our wars.

we tuck our scalding. our soreness. behind ourselves and learn poetry. as trauma. as violence. as erasure.

to be waterdrugged into rejecting the nuances of my own bursting extraordinary self. and to have this be called education.

(what is the necessity of a black child being this high off of whiteness.)

this is where. we. become the soft sharks of our literature.

making a flower stew. (otherwise known as a poem.)

there is no healthier drug than creativity.

the darkest light lives in you.)

poetry. is an infusion of scale and feather. bruise and mist.

you are the thing. that comes from your soul.

the poem. the one. that is running through your life. pay atte...

you are happening now. right now. right at this moment and your happening is beautiful.

you don’t even know how breathtaking you are. as you are.’ says the universe through tears.

the words. they are in love with you.

how does the sea remember me. every time.

all that strength you made from horror.

ninety four years is many lives. is many bones to go through. many walks through the sun. many hearts to shed. many stars of joy to comb through your hair. a lot of time to drink.

our weeping is all hope and fresh mourning.

ready. to walk you home.

and what happened when you left madiba. all the water started to weep. and the lands ate our feet. and africa had to keep the sky from jumping into her lap from grief.

put our laughter into our teeth.

you are a different grief.

and some of us will disown you. because you hurt too much. some of us will have to say your name for a year. before we are able to sleep.

i have been eating flowers. drinking honey. every day. for every meal. all this sweetness eases my blood from missing you,

(grief poems)

sometimes i want to say it. and there is nothing in english...

i am drunk from all the honey. i have been drinking. for days straight. every night i eat water until i fall asleep. i am trying to remember you, madiba. and let you go at the same time. i am throwing my weeping at the stars.