When a Wind Blows, Flowers Pollinate.
When you unclothed your face,
a beast is seen eating the curtains of the sky.
You said your days cry when you sing a bird
And the sun laughs at your sluggish face
But your face is a mirror where we draw our sins
And our sins are the broken hymen of our home.
Remember, these days are smoke, fog, and dust.
& Earth is created without a husband.
I entered this day with my first dream
As a boy carries the rivers of his stomach
Then, I sat on the palm of the immortal embers
Where my skull is eaten first
then my neck & my torso,
Where I slept in the bowl of blood
Writing a letter to my mother,
There’s no better way to narrate our pains
And no way to slaughter flowers
that didn’t know the voice of men.
Like any story narrated by stars,
This poem is a footstep of water.
Like any treasure that leaks
from the pocket of the wind
When it blows to pollinate flowers,
But any flower is an aftermath of grief
And grief is the tears of dust.
Contributor’s Bio
Mubarak Said is the 3rd runner-up in the poetry category of the 2022 Bill Ward Prize for Emerging Writers. His works are published or forthcoming in Inspired magazine, World Voices Magazine, Icefloe Press, Literary yard, Beatnik Cowboy, Piker press magazine, Teen Literary Journal, ILA magazine, Icreatives review, the yellow house magazine, Pine Cone Review, Synchronized chaos, Susa Africa, Madswirl magazine, Applied Worldwide, Opinion Nigeria, Today Post, Daily Trust, Daily Companion and elsewhere.
