Vacancies

Here is the dining room table
marked by eight people.

The leg that is more than slightly broken
leans on the wall and the chairs,
these are chairs we all sat and fought in
to pass the cereal
or the milk. Don't finish that or else,
stop poking me and why is it so cold?

This is the living room rug
where many unsuccessful cart wheels
ended in pain and laughter. Mostly pain.
And here is the staircase
that shuddered every time someone slipped
and bruised some area of their body.
The dented washroom doorknob, replaced
several times during
the course of these years.

Here again are the empty chairs at suhoor
and only softly whispered questions of
when fajr comes in.

certainty

I want this to be over. I fail to reign my thoughts into the direction I desire. I'm ruled by them. I want this year to be over. I want school to be a distant memory, like past winters - I know they happened, but it's too dark in here to remember. I want to be something, instead of just doing. I want to stop answering your questions. And the questions I know you're about to ask.

I wanted to go to the track today but I had no one to go with. Probably the only place I can lose my thoughts. Everything is so simple - just one foot ahead of the other and you know where you'll be at the end. It's so sure. How I wish the rest of everything was as certain.

summer's death

I love,
love the way the weather changes.
The suddenness of wind and
dark skies.

The humour of girls in flip-flops
awkwardly caught in the rain.
Cruel humour?
yes I know.

I love the leaves on the ground
and the colours of autumn. One tree
in particular catches my eye at school.

Something beautiful at school. Who knew?

I love slush
and the salt stains at the bottom of my pants.
And how my running shoes are infiltrated
getting my socks wet,
because of course, I refuse to wear boots.
Well, not the boots that are
in style now. They're unfit.

I love it because I know.
Know that when I get home,
it's going to be warm.