We talk about finding beauty in the mundane, but also about whether or not we can afford to write about the little things while a fire rages in our backyard, burning things like gender equality, religious tolerance, and peace.
There has been the age-long argument on whether as writers, we can afford to listen to the voice of the heart when it is not speaking about the political. But then again, what is political? I’ve been thinking about these cages, and I’ve decided the little things are just as worthy of writing.
the fierce resistance of the sky
when the sun begins to sink
forcing it to spill,
i believe in the kindness of truth to call that beauty.
the width of my sister’s smile
and the tenor of my best friend’s laughter
the love song that exists between rain and a window
and the tender spot that is midnight
the dirge of silence, truth.
the weakness in my chest when i begin to miss the people i love.
scars and their lineage
the assent of a family of laughter taking off by the same sheet of time
the curse that soaks my country like a towel would blood
the glint in my brother’s eye when he wants to prank.
i believe in the curl of hair
the anguished cry of a half buried hurt.
the slight smirk of nature over greenery kissing harmattan
i believe in hands.
in the fabric of friendship.
Hauwa Shaffii Nuhu is a final year law student at Bayero University, Kano. A poet and essayist, her work has appeared online and in print on platforms such as Ake Review, The Bitter Oleander, Afridiaspora, Brittle Paper, The Kalahari Review, Selves, and elsewhere.
She is a 2018 fellow at the Ebedi Writers International Residency and interning here on That Green Tea blog.
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