Art by Michelle Lanter | Website | Etsy Shop | Facebook | Instagram | Tumblr
Exploring Mother and The Quran as the Sea
before we breathed, we swam. it is believed no memory
made in the sea stays. me, I remember the scratch
of turning pages well before I ever held a book.
I was birthed with the warm date under my tongue,
the azan whispered into my witness,
a cry mistaken for help and a name holding
the weight of expectation on my barely boned shoulders.
I was born here, in the half-open eyes of my mother’s hope.
sometimes, all her lips rolled at tahajjud was my name.
I came from prayer, dream alike. quiet like independence day
never is. independent like children never are.
concrete like the summer I breathed before.
sometimes, memory snaps sharp: my mother turning
the Quran page – her belly scratching against paper.