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Why my notebook has been empty
It is Tearstained From seeing Bloodstained Sheets and streets And flour sacks And empty pots And bloated bellies And gaunt faces And sunken ribcages And trembling unblinking children And split skulls And spilled guts And limbs gathered in carrier bags And corpse After corpse After corpse After corpse After corpse After corpse After— So many →
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You Have Forgotten
Lest we forget, You say each year. Never again, too. As you wear your poppies And lay your wreaths And judge those who Choose not to join you. Lest we forget. But when you are the ones Bankrolling a genocide, Dehumanising a nation, Ignoring massacres and starvation, Propagandising for perpetrators, Silencing reporters, Criminalising protestors, Demonising →
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On counting
1. Some lives count more than others. This past year, more than others, Has made this abundantly clear. Those one thousand lives, they claim, Count more than—and therefore justify taking— These forty thousand. Or is it one hundred thousand? Or two hundred thousand? Or more? It’s hard to know for sure When they’ve made it →
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My Shoe Story
Sensible, black, and extra, extra wide Stretching for dear life over my xxl feet I would love something prettier… sexier… high-heelier But those things groan under me Scream out for mercy See me coming in the shop And run in the opposite direction (And I don’t have the physique to run after them) So from →
NAZIRA'S NOTEBOOK 