Poetry by Farah Lawal Harris

Her Night

being alone let’s me
hear and see
things I never noticed
were there.
it’s kinda nice
being able to check in with me
and not think about others
for a while,
to feel stillness and my feet on the ground,
observe this life I thought was ugly and horrific
and somehow
see beauty,
to be somewhat
on the road to rediscovering me…
maybe she
is hiding in leaky roofs and buzzing insects
and noisy cars that pass by, or
maybe she is in a white night light
or the bluish purple sky.
i think
i have a chance of finding her
if i sit still enough and observe,
maybe i can feel her if I understand
that me is her
and her hurts
but she still lives
and her has been hustled and abused
but she still gives
and her wants to give up
but she is still here
with her feet on the ground,
observing the sights and sounds
of a night as beautiful as she
wishes she could be


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