Anisa Rahim
The Constant
1.
i cannot utter my name
some days i cannot remember it either
my name a dirty word
i throw it in the sea,
watch it drift with the tide,
a mess of seaweed
embracing it tightly
2.
there is a war
in a city of dust and books,
arabic script lovely and dark
is mangled and torn
pages ripped,
its face bleeding
3.
the water sees it all
people moving, misleading,
maiming one another
the sea devours them
ultimately
and spits them back
into the sky
from the dock, i spend
hours watching the sea,
weeping into the sea,
i learn its lessons
4.
beyond this house
the world goes black,
color will not lend itself
to what is already murky,
half-truths and entire lies
drape the clouds beyond
5.
our house lives on a canal
i grew out of a florida swamp
its water the first blue I knew
seagulls swoop down
to devour flying fish,
and dolphin fins bob up and down
in the morning sun
it is sublime
About the writer:
Anisa Rahim is an emerging writer and recent graduate of the MFA program at Rutgers-Newark University. She has previously published poetry in Blazevox magazine.
Image: Broken Heart: Pieces by Elina Ghanbari. Mixed media collage: acrylic, ink, and broken glass on canvas. 45 X 60 cm. 2017. By permission.
