The Channel

by Kisa

The Channel



I can’t swim


But still we swim away


Through choppy waters, colder than I’ve known


Far away from the ivory and oil, 


From the machetes and men of blood.



I was born dusty as the floor beneath my mother’s bed


Many men had her there.


And I hated them.


But she taught me to look beyond our walls,


Beyond the cutting hours, and to reach through the dark


Into the light, to other lands



So my grip is tight


And my sight is set on fat green fields,


On warm people and cities of gold and glass 


I swim forwards, arm over tired arm


To dream to arrive,


But the water is cold.




- by Kisa Omar


3 Months
Since posted

Finished since 79 days, 17 hours and 57 minutes.