Author: Afra
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This is not a curse
On the day my daughter turns threeold enough to understand fragments ofthe intricate theory of love, I will unfoldmy prayer rug and proudly confess to her: this is where you begbeg as if there’s no tomorrowbeg without the hesitation of hoboes in front of the porticos of affluent businessmenbeg like a gale that would sabotage…
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Limbs
A man without limbsgrapples with negativityto function properly. She is notjust my mother. The voracious nooksand cranniesof this househave been nudging me:who will tend to us, now?whose smile willwarm us up? In response totheir plea,I holler:who will lullmy insecurities to sleep?who will wipe my profuse tears? An obsessionwith a motheris different than thatwith a lover…
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Abba
Abba says:You’re the light of my universe So when the ache in the crevices of my lungs is filled to the brimHe says:Why is my daughter sad?How can my light be sad? My beloved AbbaThe days when your daughter forgets to don a smileAre the days when her excruciating past decides to strike her charred…
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It is March Again
It is March againwith drowsy Dahlias on my terrace swayingto the tune of the gentle zephyr As I hide my face under my thick blanketI realize that the piercing winter is departingwith wistful eyes that are moist with tearsruminating on what you put me through years ago This act of being a champion in forgiving…
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Laughter
I wish to share with you, every minute detail regarding how you kindle my dark soul on fire or the fragrance of gratitude that wafts in my lungs once inundated with griefafter meeting you But how do I tell you about your laughter?:that which distracts me the most. It is more satiating than water for…
Moonbow Magazine 