where should I turn my head to?
the ground, the sun, the earth?
the roots that made me?
sometimes my own womb rejects me,
but she is a Mighty guider,
The Universal Mother who sought to see everything,
Felt everything,
she carried the pain within her,
So when she bleeds every month,
she bleeds not only to release egg,
but to grieve the rejection of self that I acquired for so long,
Since the metals shifted to alkaline,
the pain has eased,
I don’t put anything dead inside of me anymore,
I don’t put coloured capsules with numbers engraved into the rims into my mouth
Now only vegetables, the leaf and the flower enter my mouth
I try to paint my body in the Sun,
not hidden like the culture taught me too,
Melanin inks my skin for a reason,
why should I hide the gold,
Can’t you see the glory within this blood?
Heat keeps me warm and burning,
Keeps the flowers flowing in my hair,
Legs now more in control of how I place them,
Stretching to ease the shocks,
Where should I turn my head to now?
The Moon, the Sky, the forbidden galaxies,
the spirit world has a place for me,
My body a Medium for them to enter and pass through,
So I protect myself now,
White and purple light drape me,
I forget that my grandma used to be my guider,
I was drowning the other day,
Was wondering why it felt so difficult to lift my head above water,
Moved my head looking for assistance,
Left right,
then looked behind myself to realise you had left,
That you had gone months ago,
All whilst I was doing okay,
my Rock,
the only thing that was stable and fixed suddenly gone,
The only thing that I was so sure of,
So sure that you woud never leave,
So certain at the uncertainty of your death,
Thought I had a little more time,
But now I have a gaping hole in this vortex of time,
Again a reminder of what its like to be on two feet,
I am doing good,
but even children sometimes want to hold their elders hand,
a little guidance never kills,
Now I search for you in dreams,
Closing my eyes to maybe get a glimpse of my whole heart..
Where should I turn my head now?
Down in prostration where it used to be?
An Almighty God,
With Names full of benevolance,
99 of them,
rich in numerology, and perfect on mouth,
the way they are sung from chests,
What beauty lies in just the names alone,
An unfamiliar ground for me now,
Haven’t prayed in so long,
Only to the Universe,
maybe I will crawl back to prayer mat,
to return as your servant,
Then I also look to what ruined me,
I see her face in all her innocence,
The tears that moulded me into who I am,
and to those that watched,
I watch, looking to forgive,
I stand with my hands up to apologise for any wrongdoings,
But it seems I end up with lashes on my arms every time,
my legs buckle over,
my hands curl up into balls,
my neck in constant shock, tensed up
As if I was about to fly into the sky
or just about to fight with fists toughened up,
I look back,
At Brighton,
the poisonous city with water that runs on blood,
the same Sea the washes my sins over finds a way to drain me,
So now I will never return,
Fool me once shame on you,
Fool me, you can’t get fooled again…
So I float on trees, on sofas, on planes, gravestones,
try to find somewhere to rest my head,
somewhere I could call home,
found trees growing around me to protect me,
long green limbs,
A pillow, the clouds of my dreams,
Become a cradle around me,
Punjab not a place I could return to,
though an itch I’d like to get rid of,
return to Mother home,
yet diaspora leaves me in a state of confusion,
Displacement from womb, to woman, to grave,
it seems moulding into the flesh of the earth would be the easiest option,
but even It is not ready for my spirit,
so all I can do is find home within my spine,
find a way to let it lift me,
with Ama wrapped internally inside me,
like a rose, see each petal carefully picked and carved,
Open me up,
let my poetry sing to you,
as I begin to release seeds,
into fertile and non fertile soils,
in attempt to better what is dead,
love my weapon.