September 13, 2019 · Issue 1: In Transit

Remind Them

Colour: forever reside in my blood will keep me on holy ground colour that lived war inside of her. War: the goodbye kisses, tangible on cheek three years on nothing left to go back too. Home: place that birthed her, took all that she has ever known, in one breath. Now: they ask me, why does migration sound like home? Remind: my survival has no destination. my residence in my motherland still has an obituary notice someone forgot to take down. Grieving: maybe because my people are still grieving, I am still grieving. I have yet to know an accommodation that looks like mine. Hijab: they are more comfortable in my silence, than the story of the tear stains on my hijab. Hijab: protected me more than this country ever has. that’s why I never forget to leave the house without one. Remind: when they ask me, why does migration sound like home? tell them Love: my love language has always been In Saho, In Islam, In Blackness, In places that have been coming and going straying and leaving a love language you killed off long ago.