Cubism

Umi never made me

lock myself away

stay in my room when

I disappointed her

When the world spins

I shut out the voices

All she would say is

the sun will still rise

no matter how dark

it gets in here

no matter how lonely

I start to feel

I can still be the light

no matter how scared

I get in here

I start to remember

image

my name is Amal

and Amal means

hope means there

is still a tomorrow

But there’s no future in these

four wallsfour walls

boxing me inboxing me in

so I punch the air

shadowbox with God

spar with all four of these

corners as if they are all

different versions of me

Ninety-degree angles

of Amal—sharp lines like

a barber fade, except

I will never fade

I’m still herestill breathing

heart still beating like drums

in some faraway place called

homehomehomehome