pexels-photo.jpgYou’re *ugly but intact not beautiful and worn out.

You’re special yet lonely not social and public.

You’re born to be loved.

You’re born to be groveled for.

You’re not a Val gift, not to be bought in a cheap coin.

In fact, let no one uproot the daffodils.

Let no one makes you feel desperate for love.

Let no one makes you wrong Allah,

Nowadays, you’re pregnant with hope

And we still understand you.

Your mother pesters you for introduction

And you keep skipping her like rope.

How difficult it is being a woman even worse,

Is being a devoted one— covering herself up,

Praying always, avoiding stains, maintaining dignity.

To many people on planet, you’re a dirt but to us,

You’re a gem, to many myopic faces,

You’re the old type but to us, you’re the last of your kind,

Religious, spotless, heroic:

Maryam, Khadijah, Aisha, the beautiful names mouth

Never forgets….


by: Haruna Issa Al-Hassan


The Writing Hour — After The Party

You’ve heard of the Witching Hour, right? Well, I want to talk about the Writing Hour- the magical time of day when I get to write. I get up at 4:30 in the morning, every single day, just so that I can have this quiet, undisturbed time to write. Every night, before bed, I set […]

via The Writing Hour — After The Party