Written in interconnected isolation of the covid-19 pandemic
so much of this year i’ve spent
s t a r g a z i n g
staring at my friends’ faces on zoom screens
i am used to this
my people found their way home on
horizonless seas
by stars thousands of years
a w a y
sewed sorghum at the ‘isha rising of the Pleiades,
planted with Sirius, Ursa Major, Pegasus
i am used to feeding myself
finding nourishment from
those in lands far off
so i find Semhar in france and she, me
habesha and yemeni forming f a m i l i a r i t y
family continents away
found comfort hearing
how we met and cooked together
relieved her mama who worried about her daughter
among so many muzungus whom
you know you can’t trust because you have to pre-eat before you visit their homes
Semhar brought her home to me in a suitcase,
packed and magicked through customs and border patrol,
triumphant, i am finally going to feed you!
injera, not unlike what my grandma fed my father,
unlike what you eat at the restaurants,
made and rolled by her auntie
berebere roasted by her grandma
shiro chickpea paste, ground by her mother
made a meal in my kitchen
where i had fed her half a dozen times,
roles reversed
made a guest in my own home,
brought her f i n g e r s full of food to my mouth
kulas, fed with one hand, and the hands and hands and hands of her ancestors from so far away
how now this memory continues to feed me
i know how to be guided from far off
f a m i l y, whatsapp to hear their voices
hear Bushra ask her aunt the recipe for butter chicken,
then listening to a voice note in urdu and english and suddenly i am eating love
t r a n s p o r t e d
tell me you can’t teleport
watch how love travels
light hands
stars guide me h o m e
meaning hearts that love me.
know me, nourish me, need me.
and now i understand why
my ancestors spoke of stars
like they knew them
cousins who stayed in the homelands while we migrated.
family who journeyed while we stayed.
keyfek, aish akbarakh, hamdulillah, wa abouki? wa jidda?
tell me how you survived for so long
i say star gazing but i mean s t a r b a t h i n g
like i could make it through this year or
any of those to come without
steeping in love
relearn star stories via zoom
Jacques and Alex read me poetry
and i receive it in my heart glow, gently
send me photos of their books
with hand written notes,
and i know comfort, too
soaking in love
like the s t a r s s e t t i n g told my ancestors when the rains would
come soften their sun cracked mountains
s t a r stones and star bones
star s h i f t s kept us earthbound, living, narrative g e n e r a t i o n
generative, my grandmother’s grandmother’s, grandmother’s, grandmother’s
g r a n d m o t h e r s
say you need stars to stay alive
so
i eat light.
from screens
photons forming their f a c e s
i drink
from my birthday Janae passed me a mug with the phrase
friends are like stars, you can’t always see them but they’re always there
years stretched, i hold not to the cliche but to the kindness in g i v i n g
the mug lost in transit betwixt continents
i am still drinking
from that cup
this year i can’t feed my friends
physically
i bring food to my own mouth made by my hand
yet i am not full until i am f i l l e d with them