In Borno State

In Borno state
you imagine being someone else
you are in Abuja
in one of those big houses
there is no blood
no stench of death
just big cars
and big houses

In Borno state
they call you IDPs
refugees in your own home
you know it is a lie
there was a time when
the children were children
and the schools were not tents

In Borno state
you imagine one day
families would stay
you wouldn't live
in filthy camps
you wouldn't know
the smell of sympathy
and the sound of pity

In Borno State
you are not you
you are not running
you are not hiding
In Borno State
you are home again

Immigrant Diaries (4): Allah In English

Last month your family walked
to europe
last month
the bombs went off in Paris.

now you pray in english
you don't say "subhanallah" when you trip
Mary sneezes in class
you quickly bite your tongue
so you don't say "yarhamakillah"
your father shaves his face
calls himself Mark instead of Musa
your sister packs you a p and j sandwich
it tastes like puke
in the cafeteria you lick your lips

your mother only shops in supermarkets
she refuses to go to the local bazaar
your uncles spread their sajjadah
in the garage
the athan calls
but you refuse to hear it
now you only read books by
Danielle Steele and JK Rowling
you hide your
Kahlil Gibran and Suheir Hammad
under your bed

your teacher says
A minute silence for the dead
and after exclaims
"curse those arabs"
you find some lightening cream in the store
(this accursed brown)
you think
you rub it at night everyday
but the sun has made a promise
on your skin
she simply will not
let up.

Immigrant Diaries (3): Go Home

They say;
"go back to where you came from"

as we became bent

from carrying home

on our backs.

you think we want to be here?
you think we want to break the ocean
to hear you say our names?

noor sounds like darkness
from your mouth.
you ask if
i burn in the sun
you tell me slavery
was not such a "big deal"
do you still think
we want
to be
here?

Immigrant diaries (2): Things we left in the water

As water sipped in
Through the sides of the boat
Your conductor asks you
To dump everything you don't really need
What do you mean?
You ask, he says
"throw it all over board"
Your father throws away
The guilt of cheating
Your mother dumps out
The dissatisfaction of marriage
The woman opposite you
Spits out the pain of miscarriage
Your aunty flings away
The shame of sexual curiosity
You take of your shoes
You throw your shoes in the water
You begin to cry
To rid yourself of tears
There is too much in you
Too much sadness
You say, it will drown us
You cannot stop crying
You cry for the war
You cry for the children
You cry for homelessness
You cry for the word refugee
You stick your face away from the boat
If the water doesn't drown us
Honey, your tears would
Your mother says
You give it all to the water
The conductor paddles you all ashore
Through salt water and tears
There are is too much pain in the water
Once ashore
You don't look back
You pray to God to drown it all.

Immigrant Diaries (1): At Sea

Salt water up to your chest
your mother
cries a house
cries dry land
cries a family
cries love.

Salt water up to your throat
your mother
cries peace
cries a home
cries a god
cries survival

Salt water up to your chin
your mother
cries anger
cries rage
cries war
cries revenge

Salt water up to your eyes
your mother
cries forgiveness
cries a country
cries defeat
cries surrender