Raw...

I am Layla Anwar and I am raw...I am Layla Anwar and I am naked...I have been naked for the past 8 years...

I lost my skin, my dermis, my protection...what you see is nothing but flesh, raw.

Raw as in no place to hide, no bunker, no shelter, no nothing...naked as is no clothes, no protection, no cover...

Raw as in under open skies, raw as in unknown destinations, raw as in no country...

My country was my protection...a place, as imperfect as it was, I could run back to, a place...and now I lost my anchor...am sailing, not knowing where...carried by waves and winds I can't control. No one taught me how to navigate...I was just thrown into deep waters...naked and raw...

I carry my rawness with me, it is my baggage, my suitcase, my luggage...How can one let go of one's flesh ?

I, We, queue in waiting...unsure...we just queue hoping...hoping for what ? We don't know...

Here we are standing in line like good obedient subjects, objects, holding that rawness - that bag, in a hand - a passport, a document, an identity card...coaxing it to speak for us, coaxing to say - we were, we are...we once existed, we are trying to exist...

We queue and say Insha'Allah...

And in the rawness of our flesh - tempests scream, tornadoes blow, wild fires consume us...and we say Insha'Allah...

We swallow the caustic No, the indifferent Look, the slammed Door in our faces...

We swallow the Silence,

The bitter pill, your bitter pill, hoping to forget like you did.

But Raw stands in line - in front, behind, next to me...and refuses to forget.

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