Throughout the year 2024, I put my feelings on paper to express myself, how I felt.
RESILIENCE
I rise like roots through cracks in stone,
I stand, unbroken in the fight.
Resistance is the fire I hold,
A spark that never dies within,
Against the challenges of fear and despair
my will becomes my hope.
Resilience is the heartbeat’s drum,
A rhythm forged in every day’s pain,
It sings through the scars,
of past and present trauma I face.
Each fall becomes a rise again,
Each wound, a lesson carved in flesh,
I gather strength from where I’ve been,
My spirits rise, and my hopes refresh.
For in the darkest hours, I know,
There lives a light no one can take,
It’s in my heart, it’s how I grow,
It’s every move I dare to make.
I am the force that won’t retreat,
In every step, in every beat,
Resisting still, and still, I rise.
RECLAIMING NARRATIVES
We were afraid to speak out, told our stories in whispers.
Our tongues chained to their truths,
Our stories spun from silence,
Our dreams trapped in their roots.
We reclaim our words with thunder,
Let the fear replace courage,
Our voices weave new landscapes,
Where once we were ignored.
Each scar becomes a sentence,
Each tear becomes a verse,
Our pain, our joy, our journeys
No longer they’ll reverse.
For power lives in stories,
In the truths that we unearth,
And we are the creators,
Of our freedom, of our worth.
We are the authors, taking control of our stories
FREEDOM
Hey, what’s your name, I see you come here every day
I have more than one, it depends on which one suits the occasion
An illegal immigrant, asylum seeker, scrounger, my name does not matter
Not many people remember my given name
Anyway, to answer your question, I come here to make friends
I come here to get advice and support, learn something new
Because I have a lot of time to spend, I am very free
Tell me, you speak good English, what does freedom mean to you
I checked with Cambridge dictionary it says the condition or right of being able or allowed to do, say, think, whatever you want to, without being controlled or limited
Exactly, that does not apply to a person with many names as myself, coz I am considered a fraud
Dispersed, displaced, destroyed and depressed, a lot of Ds in my way of life
I wonder what society thinks of me with all these D’s tagging behind me
It’s very confusing, isn’t it?
With freedom, I can dream on, with freedom, I can have a name
With freedom, I can have a permanent postcode,
With freedom, I can integrate into the community
Hold on a second, you just described the meaning of freedom to me, sorry, my friend, I am none of the above, I am a nobody, I am nowhere and everywhere
This is me, a person with many names
But I am an individual, yes, and individuals make up a society,
Society cannot exist without individuals
My quest for freedom continues……
OUR HOME
By the Indian Ocean, where waves touch the shore, lies my home, a haven I adore. The rhythm of the sea is a soothing song, A place where my heart forever belongs.
Morning greets us with a golden hope, Sunlight dances on sandy floors, the ocean’s whisper, a gentle call, Awakens the world, and touches us all.
Palm trees sway in the coastal breeze, rustling leaves in harmony with ease, A dance of light forever more.
Fishermen’s boats sail out to sea, they glide across waters reflecting the light. Their nets cast out, in hopes they draw, the bounty of the sea.
In the heart of the village, stands a house of our laughter, our hopes, and dreams, hustling and bustling we all play our part with chores to be done.
Villages thrive along the shore, with markets busy, sale of Spices and fruits, sweet fragrance, echoing cultures from far away.
Children’s laughter fills the air, chasing dreams without a care, as they weave stories, both grand and frail.
Evening falls, the sun dips low, and the stars bestow. The horizon blurs in twilight’s grace, Peace descends on this cherished place. I watch the stars as they colour the dark sky, and the moon smiles down on us. Under the moonlight, we play a game called Catch Me If You Can. The village is quiet my auntie prepares dinner, and the fireplace crackles as she feeds the firewood.
In the kitchen, a haven, where magic is made, the evening meal is over, and we all camp around the fireplace listening attentively to grandmother’s folktales. The night is quiet and peaceful we all retire to bed
Our house is simple and small, the love within that makes it home. A haven of peace, where hearts find rest, we are truly blessed.
By the Indian Ocean, I find my peace, In the waves’ lullaby, my worries cease. My home, where the land meets the sea, A paradise that cradles me.
My new home is different, short days in winter, long days in summer, it feels like a different world. The English culture is very different from my own. I am enriched with both. I have friends I call family. I am no longer the little girl who looked up to the sky for stars. I am chasing my dreams wanting to be free and not restricted from following my dream. I want to be like the brave eagle that fly high in the sky, I want to call this place my home
RECLAIMING NARRATIVES
We were afraid to speak out, told our stories in whispers.
Our tongues chained to their truths,
Our stories spun from silence,
Our dreams trapped in their roots.
We reclaim our words with thunder,
Let the fear replace courage,
Our voices weave new landscapes,
Where once we were ignored.
Each scar becomes a sentence,
Each tear becomes a verse,
Our pain, our joy, our journeys
No longer they’ll reverse.
For power lives in stories,
In the truths that we unearth,
And we are the creators,
Of our freedom, of our worth.
We are the authors, taking control of our stories
WHO AM I
I am me; I am who I am, I am a woman
Today, I want to talk about me, I do not know
How to define myself, I have a story to tell
A story that sometimes makes me wonder
Who I have become, or does it bring back memories
Of my youthful age, when everything didn’t matter
My story belongs to me, I tell it in my own words and on my terms
Some people may want to hear it and make their judgement
Some people may want to hear it and put it into their narratives
While some people want to hear it, to empathise
Others may want to hear it and ask what if?
My story belongs to me, I tell it in my own words and on my terms
My story can characterize me, to behave in a certain way
Or have different personalities, sometimes influenced by my surroundings
To me, this is a continuation of my storytelling of my past, now
the present and thinking about the future
It’s a story that is told that unfolds, to good or bad, tears and joy
I tell my story in my own words, on my terms, my story belongs to me
