peacock feathers

I am my mother's will,

my father's prayer

, and all the progress in the good pores

. I am the guiding light, the solace, and the feeling of distant places.

When they ignited the war,

they set fire to all the paths,

the exiles, the hammers, the meetings, and the borders.

They ignited our hearts

, then walked all the paths mourning us for the nonsense of their vile ancestors

. Woe to them! Nay, damn them!

Those dregs of criminals,

their thoughts unyielding,

bound by cross-fertilization.

They do not believe in humanity,

in the universe,

in compassion,

in the precious jewels

. They do not know the sounds of churches,

the prayers of mosques,

or the cries of children in the fields

. They did not play drums,

they did not paint with peacock feathers an unfading moon

, they did not bake bread at dawn

, or carry water to birds' nests.

In Sudan, we play the melodies,

we believe in acceptance in the house.

My aunts planted love

In my uncles' house, inclusivity embraced me

Between the banks of the Nile

Between Tuti and my moons, I roam

Forgive the time that contained you

O Janjaweed, the farce of dwelling in graves

I swear by the One who fashioned Adam

From the lineage of light

He drowned Pharaoh

In the waters of Lamur

He brought us forth from between loins or ribs

You will be expelled

From our land in the blink of an eye

You will depart immediately

And the flocks of birds will regain their brilliance

And joy will return to my days

December 8, 2025