Poetry
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A poem by Mariam Ali

If it means

I can create

words that

reach Uranus and Saturn

I surrender to God’s will.

Even if it means

cutting open my chest

with my bare hands

and taking out

this heart

using the dripping blood

as ink

I surrender to whatever befalls

the softest of them all.

But please continue beating

a beautiful drum like rhythm

because this sore spot

will soon grow

bright green leaves

ready for summer.

This entry was posted in: Poetry

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