Original Artwork by Mariam Sawires
If I were a kitten
the world would be smitten
but I am a seven year old war-bitten
little honey-eyed girl
Locked up in detention.
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happy world refugee day, princess
Posted at 5:45 pm , on June 21, 2017
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Baby Moses
Posted at 5:48 pm , on June 12, 2017
Original Artwork by Mariam Sawires
Mum had named
Her newborn Moses
To guard against
The nonchalant sea
So he would help
Part the hungry ocean
When God gave His decree
That ‘t was time to fleeBut six months ago
The phantom Pharaoh
Sent his birthday arrow
And gifted from a thousand mile
A misguided guided missile
Mum’s shell shocked cornea
Recorded her guardian
Sear
By a shrapnel the size of a Chardonnay
And flap
Feeling for his intoxicated airwayFlap did baby Moses
Blood fountained from his neck like an octopus
Gushing out a dozen roses. -
Mr. Rashedy, 1994
Posted at 12:33 am , on June 5, 2017
Original Artwork by Mariam Sawires
Such is tyranny, hard and cruel
Morphing gifted men into foolsWhen the splendid past haunts their dreams,
They smile, douse themselves and set alight the fuel. -
Scent of Dates
Posted at 11:28 am , on May 28, 2017
Illustration by SAMA SAMI
Ramadan
The Holy Month
Ablutions
Before the song of sparrows
In the nick of time
Sohour + dawn prayer
Sunrise to sunset
Fossicking the fridge
Watching the wristwatch
The scent of scripture
Dusk
Call to prayer
Drowned by mum’s dish
Iftar
The breaking of the fast
Almost breaking the dinner table
Making a wish:
“God, please end poverty.”
Dates
Eating them, not going on them
Prayer, over and over
For those in need
Remembering
Those in need
The felicity of charity
The hues of gratitude
The rarity of restraint
For all we need
Is God’s colours
His Mercy
And them dates. -
to live and give birth and make love
Posted at 1:09 pm , on May 21, 2017
Original Artwork by MARIAM SAWIRES
I turn, bidding to see life, and whenever I do
I see pain and poverty, hurt and hunger, labour and liquidationBut instead, I adore but these, infinite sensations
I like to descry a wildflower, gentle
I have never seen a flower give birth
But I have seen mothers separated from their offspringIn Spring
I like to touch the lilies and feel their coarse and supple silk
I have never seen a flower make love
But I have seen lovers hung from ropes, forgottenIn Autumn
I like to taste the rainwater left on the bracts overnight
I have never seen a flower so thirsty, it begs to die
But I have seen children ripped by a sniper’s tender bullet and sinterIn Winter
I like to listen to the soft wedding bell melodies created by the petals as they marry the grass
I have never seen snow bury a flower in cold blood
But I have seen powder detonate and deliberately rob the soul of a loverFrom next Summer:
I will turn and accept life is full of these unfair stories.
I wish it weren’t like this.
But I’ve learnt these injustices harden my flower. -
The Mother’s Day I cannot remember…
Posted at 9:18 am , on May 18, 2017
I cannot remember her caressing and cradling me in the dark, deep night.
Original Artwork by Mariam Sawires
I cannot remember her waking up, so I can sleep, in the dark, deep night.
I cannot remember her feeding me in the dark, deep night.
I cannot remember her nursing me when I got sick.
I cannot remember her anxiety when I fell.
I cannot remember.Yet, I am here.
All because of the moments I cannot remember. -
ANZAC Day
Posted at 1:08 pm , on April 28, 2017
original artwork by Mariam Sawires
The Master ordered
And the Generals gave salute
And weary and worn-out men
Danced to the flute
They strapped their green cotton-armour
And funeral-black leather bootsBrides back home awaited their grooms
To walk them down the aisle in genteel charcoal suitsBut mothers,
Mistresses of intuition
Saved money
And bought coffins. -
Femme Power
Posted at 6:59 pm , on March 8, 2017
To all the women in my life who teach me what and who a man is. Everyday.Mum. Grandma RIP. Sisters. Aunts. Cousins. Soulmates. Friends. Colleagues. Girlfriends. And all the inspiring ladies I’m yet to meet.
Happy International Women’s Day.
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Mosque, Mourning & Girls
Posted at 10:05 pm , on April 20, 2016
Osamah is 19, and his main aim during Ashura, a ten-day Islamic ritual, is to score the chat-room nickname of Houda, the girl whose long eyelashes feed his new obsession.
Listed as iTunes Best Podcast in 2015.
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Thoughts from a busy tram
Posted at 5:51 pm , on March 7, 2016
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