When I hold my arms open

In an invitation for us to hold one another

Do not rush into them

Take your time,

Put your things away,

Gather what you need,

Tie your loose ends,

And embrace me with your whole self, when you are ready.

I need you to know

That my invitation is not temporary,

That my arms will remain open.

I need you to know, darling

That my love for you is not impatient.




And I can see the outline of your nose


And I see nothing but your eyes


And you are smiling at me, I can tell


I never miss your face

For you express all that needs to be known

Your affection radiates

I am swimming in your sweetness


Kindly come closer, my love

Please lend me some of your light.

For Tasneem, and for all women in niqab who have never received a pseudo-sonnet.

I will compare you to a summer’s day and a winter’s moon and write you as roses and doves and eggplants and gazelles and all things natural and beautiful.

Perhaps one day soon, you may come to know how precious you are.



Moments before sleep are rarely empty.

Photo by Nico Frey on Unsplash

What does a mattress remember?
Besides the shape of a temporary dreaming corpse,

Does it soak up the pain of a tired body laid in it?
Does it harbour the weight of a broken mind’s thoughts?

Does it absorb the tears shed on its base
Remembering the vigils endured thereon?

Are the smiles collected?
Home to the peace of muscles relaxing
After a good and beautiful day
When the last thought before sleep
Is love, through and through?

Carry her, mattress
To the land of dreams
To the land of thick, deep sleep.

Do not forget the parts of her she has left in you.






A young woman attempting to seek and express reflections of knowledge and truth, trying to find meaning in everything under the sun.