They ask
Do you believe in God?
And I reply with the eternal vow
‘I do’.
Can you illustrate your belief
They ask
I can’t explain it, really
I look at the rain
Dance mystic mist
And I believe
The scent of moist earth
Touching a flower leaf touched by droplets
The sound of a toolshed happily accepting a shower
Drinking the essential liquid
That has no taste
I can’t explain it, really
You just have to feel.
Sometimes,
Even a Star
is Outshined.
Who decides what she can and cannot decide?
Can you fill these forms, Miss? The doctor will be with you to formally discuss your options.
What is the difference between “what’s right” and “what’s correct”?
When will she make friends with her choice?
Could a doctor ethically doctor a prescription to fulfil a belly-held belief?
Did you believe that her decision wasn’t Vaseline-slide easy?
Is the world aware of her pain while acting nonchalant?
Do you hear her silent sorrow?
How about her guilty grief?
Does she need to be left alone?
Where are the promised lorries loaded with pallets of support?
Had it occurred to you that her tensility can’t be measured in units?
Are there any shops which sell genuine, non-counterfeit hope?
If she sobs at random again, will my shoulders be ready to attract her salty fluid?
Shall I work harder to be a dory she swims with, smiling, all hunky?
Am I already regretting not doing enough?
Has this ever happened to you?
Will you keep your opinion about her womb to yourself?
Have we become numb to nuance?
Would a rainforest match her fierce fire?
Should a beast consider plastic surgery for its unborn child?
O. Sami
Dad,
Eight years
Since pleading with the paramedics
In our hotel room
In freezing Mashhad
To bring you back to life
To wake you up
But no surgical knife
Could chase your smiling soul
💔
I can hear you: ‘Son, dont bawl
Your eyes. I’m resting, perfect.’
I look up
To the windless skies
You’re smiling, still. 🖤
Osamah Sami أسامه سامي 