Your mind is like a library I want to walk into, climb stairs to reach all the books on the top of your shelf, dust them off, sit on a chair by the window stretch and read…
Tell me everything the embarrassing the witty the heartache and regret
tell me how it was like to be you, you as a child. Did you sit on your father’s lap? Did awowe or anyone tell to you sheeko xarir? ~ fairy tales.
How was it like being you the teenager? were you curious? did you get enough meal or did you sleep wondering if you will eat again?
How was it like coming home? Was home a place you longed for?
Tell me about hooyo did she seem content with a smile on her face or did you catch her say a curse or two more often like tired mothers do?
Were people nice to you? or was there a belt and a whip named after you?
tell me my dear how was it like to be a grown-up, did you learn to dance laugh a lot out loud and make l’amour?
tell me about where you have been, places you have seen, people and food culture and roots…
Let my nomadic heart know how you view the World.
I want to know your story what shaped you my darling?
no gold turns gold without flames what made you this shiny jewel?
at last, tell me how you feel looking back at your life…how do you feel?
how do you live? what would you change if anything?
is there peace in your home? by home I mean your soul mind and heart.
tell me my dear how do you take care of your inner
is there a storm I should know about?