Poetry Corner

they knew how to touch
everything but our faith.
look at our soul’s
unassailable refuge in God
when everything else still hurts.
— "the intruders" from An Anthology of Grief or the ways a Somali woman loves
you killed me over and over again,
but still, you searched for my corpse,
held me while you wailed to God
confessing all the reasons
why you’d never kill me again,

but look at me. ain’t I good at dying alone?
— "to the death of me" - from an anthology of grief or the ways a somali woman loves