Fatimah Aziz

Fatimah Aziz writes from Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. Currently pursuing her masters in creative writing, she has a deep-rooted love for poetry. Her poems have been featured in the N2 Poetry magazine based in London.

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To my heritage, what is a word?

Pyaar

You call it a flower; I call it something to break off the stem and crush between my fingers. I do not belong to this kind of love. I do not belong to you.

Khandaan

Eyes are open at every corner. Incessant hush of whispering. But where else will I find my name engraved in bloodlines? Where else will I find you?

Saeb

We exchange words that slice like the scissors you keep in your sewing kit. The whirr of the machine wakes me up in the mornings. You give me an apple, cut in neat slices. We forgive.

Khuli

Do you feel that open breeze? That salt sea air. But this is not home. This is where I remember I remember I am adrift.

Zabaan

My tongue fumbles, do I know the words? I am a clown painted in the colours of my face. I burn in shame that I cannot say them. But you smile and are glad that I’m trying.

Zaika

Steaming cups of tea frothing with cream made from the milk of buffalos. Huddled together, we talk. The clock strikes two AM before the guests leave. We talk some more. We go to sleep.

Suraj

The sun will rise and I will realize I am moulded from your earth. I am untethered. But you will always be mine

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