Tathagatha’s Teachings

Sahra
Sahra
Sep 7, 2018 · 1 min read

I have heard you before,
in my youth, my mother used Somali proverbs to teach me
She had not known her words would transcend to the vows
I utter each night

It is fall and I am in search of a peaceful dwelling, again
My mother is no longer privy to my longing for her proverbs

The cup from which I drink my morning coffee seems to overflow
from the side where I sewn a hol-y patch
the patch was to keep me dry
but like the sun, it too has shifted its shape

I am learning to hear with my eyes
sometimes I close them to feel —
the anxious flutter of the wings on my lashes,
the sweet gnawing of the day as it unfolds

Mother, oh mother,
teach me —

Sahra

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Sahra

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