Spoken Word: Tariq Touré

“If under the night you get caught in the cold

With the hundreds of lights that were torn from the mold

And can’t muster the might to find morsels of code

Know the honey in life is sourced in the soul” ~Tariq Touré

Love after Love – Derek Walcott

The time will come 
when, with elation 
you will greet yourself arriving 
at your own door, in your own mirror 
and each will smile at the other’s welcome, 

and say, sit here. Eat. 
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart 
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you 

all your life, whom you ignored 
for another, who knows you by heart. 
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, 

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

Jilbab

Cascading fabric a lifeline coiled floating from a cloud, knotted to the rope of Allah. A barrier- strange refuge, a hushed memory of who I was, before sudden birth. Ethereal recognition was the day I looked in the mirror draped in a starless sky. Foreign yet familiar, something shifting , stopping my heart and so startling my breath from a dimension I couldn’t perceive. Maybe, one day I’ll articulate it?


Fibres of the deceased, sewn into sacred cloth, I remember them as I walk, the swish- their tired hymn. Step on you, tug at you, intertwined with you, white knuckled grip, because you are life. In a dream state I walk through Tottenham Court Road. Home at last, return

Clay

Don’t snag

on the teeth of the form reality has taken

clay can only hold for so long

Add water and spin yourself

don’t dry out

Pass through quickly

soon you will come to know

when destiny decrees the day

tired clay cracks, relinquishes

and eternity begins.