Heaven

Some days I crave a sun so bright

Instead of Memphis rain

And people that can say my real name

Some days I feel my skin turning back

A darker shade close to black

And I hear my roots calling me home

But most days I know I am not alone

In feeling so far away from home

We’re all immigrants after all

Waiting for the call

To return to heaven

Important Announcement!

Hello friends, reader and fellow writers!

The ebook version of my book Stranger Paths, The Magic in The Madness is FREE on Amazon today and the next 2 days!

I would love to see it in your library and hear your thoughts about my journey from Iraq to America, from war to hope.

I hope you join the child I was, as she stood watching missiles brighten the darkness of her village, smiling as she hopes for a change. I hope you see the positivity leaking through my pages bit by bit as poems continue on. I wish to share the untold story of my people, of the civilians at war, of the children that had no choice but to accept their fate.

Our days are numbered but our numbers mean that we have survived so much, that we’re all the same.

Fragile

It is much too fragile

That thing that you base your life on

The stepping stone

The foundation to it all

It’s much too fragile

Much too wrong

Eden

I weaved a nest

Out of the things they threw away

And I made a home for my children to say

He created an earth so large

So great

Hoping one day

The Gods will appreciate

The waste they threw a way

The Garden of Eden was no place to stay

Adam

I know your pain

I, too, had to do the same

To free myself and children alike

To start fresh

A new life

I too had to be

Immigrant

But free

Self Love

Don’t forget to nurture your soul

You lost your pieces
Those that made you, you
And now you wander
Forgetting what you loved
To do

Good Bye

The things that could never fit within a bag, are the things I desperately wanted to pack

💛