The feet

A Poem

By Shameelah Khan

 

My mother asked me

How is it that I find the time to walk away

From all that I have loved?

I tell her that what I have loved has

Made me walk away

I tell her that before I pray

My hands tell me to un-touch a man that needs

My mouth tells me to silence my speech

and hold my truth all in

my nose tells me to forget the smell

of perfume that lingers inside of an Arabic book cover

my face tells me to look away

my past is but a passing lover

my arms, they feel the wounds of war

each time they grip the warmth of nothing

they touch and hold up my world

but still

it’s a world that feels like something foreign

and then there is my mind

it tells me how to live

it is the thing that beats

my feet

my feet

have stories to tell

they often stand in one place and long to be in another

they long to walk beside yours

under your umbrella