I watch how despair jolts the air all around me.
How it shakes a single breeze into whirlwinds,
how it strangles the fragile will of my flesh.
I watch how my skin escapes my own core
until I am nothing but wound, trembling and sore.
There are too many holes for one heart,
which way do I pump this tired blood first?
I am falling apart in the grip of this tempest.
If only it wore a single face
so I could charge into it loudly, hurling its name,
but here I am, curled up in this storm
that floods my veins with its thundering dark.
Oh tear inside my clouded eye,
won’t you gently flow over to unburden my sight?
Oh gloom across my raging sky,
won’t you howl me to sleep before the nightmares arrive?
Oh riverbed of this cracked world,
won’t you swell up and sing your wild songs of salt?
About the Poet
Dshamilja Roshani (they/them) is a Berlin-born poet, writer and performer of German-Iranian descent who is based in Johannesburg. They hold a BA Honours in Creative Writing from Wits University and currently teach young South African poets through the Word N Sound Academy programme.
Selected work- https://linktr.ee/dshamilja
Social Media
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