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A poem by Aya


Don’t let the restless nights fool you nor the turning

nor the counting

I don’t need rest
to raise hell
the sun inside me rises five times a day

Don’t let the reckless thoughts trick you
nor the pointless words
nor the sand

I cannot be trapped
even when I’m in a minefield in an hourglass


Don’t think that my soft voice is weakness
nor the blushing
nor the tears

My delicacy never stopped me from stabbing god
in his sleep

Don’t mistake my silence for obedience
nor forgiveness
nor peace

I am of the sea and the wind and the fire
that buried men without a sound


Every time you forget who you wronged drop to your knees and pray to your lord because

hell hath no fury
like a woman scorned





Aya A. M. is a Kurdish freelance writer, poet, painter, and is currently in her last year of pharmacy school. She spent her childhood in the city of Baghdad and has been residing in Silêmanî for the past twelve years. She’s been writing independently for nine years. Ephemeral is her first published book. Her work is predominantly in English, and is influenced by Kurdish culture, feminism, and Middle Eastern poetry