Personal

On Being Human

The baby didn’t sleep last night. His need for me is wearing. I stand in the hallway, exhausted, listening to him whimper in his cot after I place him there. I cup my hands in prayer. The shape they make is at first alien, a relic from childhood rituals when our family attended the mosque… Read More On Being Human

Poetry

The Gift

I dreamt of you when I was a girl a hazy promise, alien and enchanting The vision bore fruit decades later, a happy union of God, luck and human biology When the time came you slithered out covered in vernix, beautiful from the moment I saw you, a part of myself I did not recognise:… Read More The Gift