Latest Posts by umasabirah - Page 2

Fade

As I scroll through pictures of

My past, I wonder

How many moments have faded into

Oblivion,

With no formal record to remind me.

I used to keep receipts

From good times spent

Before everything was so

Well-documented.

My family would tease

For the habit I'd picked up

Somewhere

While I reminisced

That trip to a fast-food restaurant.

I still keep mementos

No one else would understand,

A piece of ribbon, confetti, a

Dried-out rose,

Unable to let go

Of the memories,

The people that have left my life

Where only scraps remain.

The Necklace

It sparkles as I turn it in my hand, the scarlet jewel coming to life in its bright silver setting. The pendant burns from within, and I find myself unable to pull away. My face falls slack as I draw it closer, studying the glittering facets of the fist-sized stone. I know I shouldn't put it on--I'd heard all of the warnings. Unthinking, I slip the heavy chain over my head, feeling the weight of it settle against my chest. The world opens up. Everything goes black.

Simpatico

Ceramic mug steaming

Warm, cinnamon-spiced.

Percussive pattering

On window-panes.

Wet leaves dancing,

Hyper-green against

Rolling grey.

Book in hand, cat in lap,

Pajama-clad and robe-wrapped;

These are my loves.

From Inside the Room

She awoke, her mind in a fog, trying to remember where she was and how she’d gotten here. Her head was pounding and she was nauseated. Had she been drinking? The last thing she remembered was the café, and the man, and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and the chill that smile made her feel. She tried to move, and couldn’t determine if she was having difficulty because of whatever she’d had to drink, or for some other reason she wasn’t willing to accept yet. The room was small and dark, but clean. The walls were white and windowless. There was a closed door. She was laying on something fluffy and comfortable, but she needed to pee and could tell she’d been here too long by the ache in her muscles. Struggling to get up again and finding she could not, she slowly craned her head up. It was exactly as she’d feared. Her wrists were tied to the elaborate metal headboard, and her ankles secured to the footboard. She felt her heart rate increase.

Blue-Grey

I am Blue-Grey

Cool on the outside, yet

Stormy on the inside,

It's hard to see, at sea

What lies beneath, but

There is something always churning,

Yearning for more

Than what's on the shore;

What's in store

For the future

No one can tell,

Well,

I, for one,

Am no longer satisfied

With the status-quo

I'm using my

Gift of Time

To find

Something more.

Things Hidden

The road

Was all we could see

For a few feet, only

As we passed through Enchantment,

And only our imaginations

Could dream 

What was hidden in

That Fog;

Were there eyes

Watching us pass?

Were there secrets

We were never meant to know?

On we traveled

And the haze parted

We made it home...

Though maybe 

Just barely?

From Across the Room

She spotted him from across the busy coffee shop. He’d been looking at her moments before but averted his eyes down to his phone when she looked at him. His black hair was strategically messy and his five o’clock shadow seemed intentionally scruffy. As she watched him, he looked at her again and smiled, calculatedly embarrassed. Feeling her heart flutter, she smiled back and waved. Steeling her nerves, she picked up her mocha and maneuvered her way between patrons to his small table. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, sheepish. 

“No, please go ahead,” he responded in a low baritone.

She smiled and sat across from him, sealing her fate. Finally, the plan he’d been putting into place for weeks was set into motion.

In Search of Lost Time

That madeleine moment,

Dunked in tea.

Precious fragments

Of the past,

Involuntary, unbidden,

Brought on by a certain, specific smell,

Triggering chains

(autobiographical)

Temporal, traumatic.

Recurrent research reactivates

To elicit positive emotional effects.

The bibliophile in the library,

Evoking borrowed memories.

Sappho as Muse in Nazi Germany

Did you write for Sellie Engler?

Did you whisper in her ear,

Did you speak to Lotte Hahm

Things she would maybe need to hear?

.

Did you strike fear in the Stasi,

Of woman loving woman, 

An offence to the Nazis

They'd try to silence one by one.

.

Did you visit Violetta,

Dance with ladies in Berlin,

Were you there when love was shattered

Like the glass they trampled in.

.

Are you here with us this day

As all the terrors rise again,

Will you be there as we’re taken,

Give us strength to rise within.

Luna

Calm

The grey-white clouds caress the sky, casting a diffuse light over the comparatively-violent, bright green foliage. The birds are quiet and the bees seem to scramble over the flowers while they still can. There’s a feeling of preparation, an inhale of breath, a calm. A sharp pain in the side of my head speaks to a low pressure spiral. The leaves shiver and dance. It is almost time.

The Alley

Jana had taken this shortcut through the alley hundreds of times. She knew which backyards could be seen clearly along the dirt path and which ones were hidden by tall fences. She knew which yards contained loud, barking dogs and which had friendly cats that would welcome the occasional ear-scritch. She had memorized the careful placement of trash-cans, and the neighbors who would spend the evening on their back porch, greeting her with a friendly wave. Not only would this particular shortcut save her a good twenty minutes of time, it would take her far from the busy road she lived on. On the sidewalk by that road, she faced regular cat-calls and inappropriate offers that made her shoulders shrink and her insides squirm. The alley had always been her friend, her ally, her quick path to her own lovely backyard. In her head, she could already see her back gate, hear the rusty creek of its hinges, smell the scent of elder-flowers wafting from the large bush by her kitchen window. 

Something was different about the alley this evening, though. She felt sinister, unseen eyes lurking in the shadows that awaited her, causing her stomach to flop and the fine, blonde hairs to raise on her arms and the nape of her neck.

“I’m being silly,” Jana said to herself, hardening her resolve. She had already lost precious time making a decision and scaring herself with her own wild imagination. She was wasting time that could be spent finishing her homework, time she could be using chatting with her friends online. With a final, decisive glance toward the flashing headlights of the busy road, Jana turned to the darkened alley.

Jana never made it home that night.