Grew too heavy

You can’t hold back awareness and love, any more you can hold back the dawn. When Allaah gifts you with these, hold on the blessings because they are meant to keep your mind illuminated through dark nights and your heart warm through years of winter.




You torch me with your rage, seeking to reduce me to ashes with your lies

Singe my skin, skin my dreams, pull me apart at the seams

But you’ll come to realize when it’s too late 

That these billows of smoke that sting your eyes are carrying me to the skies

There’s nothing anyone can do to harm me

The fire purifies me of grime which then cloaks your soul for life

and my ashes become stardust

your darkness is an eternal’ll find no redemption in burning others when your soul is made up of carbon monoxide




〈serial soliloquies〉

Blank. That’s how I feel about this.  :-/

We had a general election this year in Sweden. And after a whole two months, the government collapsed. Something about the coalition government not agreeing on a budget. I don’t even bother to understand what’s going on, to be honest. I have a confession to make. It’s going to sound hella harsh. But I don’t feel I belong here. Just thinking about my childhood brings tears to my eyes. It’s so painful because I love Sweden so darn much, but the culture…And I just read that the ultra-right Sweden Democrats have proposed a motion that says Swedes should be categorized according to ethnic backgrounds. It’s not even about Swedes and non-Swedes; it’s anyone with at least one immigrant parent, even if they themselves were born here. So, in this proposed motion, I’d be categorized as ‘immigrant’ even though I was born and bred here. This echoes the anti-semitic Nuremberg Laws in Nazi-Germany 1935, where people were classified as German if they had four German grandparents, and non-German (hence deprived of citizenship) if any grandparent weren’t ‘pure-blooded’ Germans.

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When I was a couple of months shy of my 16th birthday, my family up and left the luscious and serene west coast of Sweden we called home and headed straight into a whirlwind of life in its’ rawest form : Africa.

The Somali diaspora, true to their nomadic roots, have this wanderlust that denies them settling down in one area. Nomads back in the days never lasted too long in one area as the arid plains of Somalia only held so much water, so they were constantly on the look out for new plains with water sources for their cattle. So we moved to Kenya in search for new experiences.

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