Sara Alsheikh


don’t cry mama, it’s just a dream.
the sun has arrived and shattered glass can be put back together
like a puzzle, mama.

rage is only temporary, your blood only drips.
its cadence meant for fluttering creatures and the piano
you play so well
salty tears no longer dip into the valleys on my face,
foreign colors harshly added on my flesh, finally fading slightly.

i will tell you a story before i shut my eyes
maybe recite philosophies i’ve never encountered.
i can do anything in a dream mama.

blood laces off my stinging jaw,
my body suddenly frozen in place
i’m freezing mama, i must be waking.

this pain will disappear when i wake.
i’ll close my eyes now
i want to see your true face
your olive, unmarked skin
i hate the deformity your tears leave behind

close your eyes too mama, i’ll look the same again
it’s only just a dream.

The City that Sleeps

In this city, the sun never shines
The morning’s vast grey wings envelop the sky
Only when the moon wakes up,
‘they’ walk the lonely streets
desperately searching for something other than solitude,
for a single breath gasping for air
for anyone who could introduce amiability and brilliance
to the city that always sleeps.

The faint glow presents itself through windows
towering above spotless sidewalks
bare trees lining the stairways,
oblivious to the vibrance and life next door.

But these lonely shadows refuse to leave
until they’re able to hold the sun’s gaze,
Never, in the city that sleeps.

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