Five Pieces

Sabirin Osoble

End of school: Mama’s route

My mum always took us to school in the car because she would always complete her errands right after dropping us off. Whenever we were asked how we came to school, I was ashamed to say car and would lie but, now I understand.

Mama would also pick us up in the car and I dreaded parting ways at the bottom of the hill. I dreaded the thrill that would be killed with a bye, knowing the bye wanted to stay in the good.

Sometimes Mum did not pick us up in the car, sometimes she would take the bus, but it was a guessing game that always started at the top of the hill and decided at the end.

Left, or right?

We would turn around and either wait for the fingers to point or for the keys to shake.

I always wanted the fingers to point. Right.

To point in the direction of my friends, to the debrief of the day. Right.

The fingers that would wrap me into a circle of sisterhood, where we understood each other, always holding our breath before the tunnel’s odour catches us. Gasping for air in sync, letting our bookbags wave, in sync. Right

I wanted to live here, to live closer so we could stay together longer, maybe we would have been together now, right?

To the left is the path to the car,

where it made me feel like a stranger until the next day.

We are all strangers now

but these paths will forever keep us bound

Grahame Park Library

Now a community centre to centre the youth and their education

like my mother did when she brought us here in our youth, 

for our education but,

little did she know that this library would screw a place in my mind to place a light bulb, blaring with light on all the literature it could find day and night.

It was always on the weekend she took us or during the school holidays and I always looked forward to going to the library, away from the kids who played outside and teased me.

I was safe in this library because they were not interested in the quiet.

In here, their words could not outspeak the words that lay on these shelves, 

their bodies could not reach mine with the body of books I loaned. 

I felt strong in this library

I do not remember the last time I visited it as a library, and I wish I did. 

All I remember is the frequent visits I made as a child through to my teenage years. 

We go in there to pray now but,

Every time I put my head to the ground to God, I can feel the library rug, and every time I look to my left and right, I can smell my childhood in between the halls. I miss it. It feels as though my body is being pushed forward from my past, but my memories are alive in this space, and my body is evidence, tearing up at the thought of new and richer lives occupying our spaces. 

Will they ever know the love a child found in this space? The love the adult of that child has blossomed into from this very place they used to call home?

Grenfell: Forever in our hearts.

6pm outside Notting Hill Methodist Church, June 14th every year from 2017 and every day from June 14th 2017, our 72 angels and their families were ignored and mistreated. Justice delayed is justice denied, and it is as though coloured bodies are grey in your fumes of ignorance, but I do not want to write in anger in this poem because our 72 angels and their families deserve love even in their rest and I cannot continue to write in anger when my boiling temper rises down to condensate tears.

6 p.m. outside Notting Hill Methodist Church is where we gather in our greens for Grenfell every June 14th. I am always moved to tears as we walk in silence and as we shame the incompetence of the British government.

6 p.m. outside Notting Hill Methodist Church, we walked in a circle around Notting Hill and destination was Grenfell tower. To be so close to a place that families thought were safe and in a place of refuge but failed by the government.

Oh father, mother, brother, sister, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, great uncle, great aunt, family friend, cousin, I will always miss you.

My heart will always be green not in sickness but in light as the tower you thought was your haven, lights up every night, lit in a green-shaped heart. I keep that plastered over the heart that bleeds for you.

Oh father, mother, brother, sister, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, great uncle, great aunt, family friend, cousin, I will always remember you.

Your picture is plastered all over pillars and poles in Notting Hill, waiting for your name to be yelled out so I can hug you in relief. I am still waiting in this hotel.

Oh father, mother, brother, sister, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, great uncle, great aunt, family friend, cousin, I will always love you.

Even though you are not here, you are somewhere, you saved me from the black smoke of the room and into the dark night outside the window. I didn’t know I wouldn’t see you again and if I had known, I would’ve climbed 20 floors with my bare feet and hands. Oh father, mother, brother, sister, grandmother, grandfather, aunt, uncle, niece, nephew, great uncle, great aunt, family friend, cousin, can you hear my cries?

Letters to love

I think I will love you forever, like the vein meets the ring as you say I do

committing to my heart as I do yours 

combined forever 

holding the red rope of love

I think I will think of you forever, like time thinks of change when seasons arrive

summer meeting autumn

the world getting darker 

time becoming shorter

sights of you under the sun become a 

moment waiting to be relived soon again

but my thoughts of you light the lamps on the street at night

I think you will always be in my head like,

The words 

I try to find to

 say

how much?

I love you.

Man-made river 

two seats with stairs connecting one another 

I think about you 

and the stairway that may lead to heaven 

I think about myself 

in a selfless way 

would I enjoy life here if it meant sitting by the current 

cleansing by the lake 

sensing who I am? 

who am I?

it is strange for me to find comfort in a city

to feel a sense of belonging 

because I truly do not think I belong anywhere 

I settle 

and I live 

but I am vigilant 

and on instincts

although a seat by the lake 

and woods man-made river river 

man-made steps 

leading to a seat next to me 

next to you 

beside one another 

I do not think 

but here I am thinking 

I am breathing 

I am slow 

65 bpm resting heart rate 

red heart 

love 

I feel love 

because I am surrounded by love 

a circle of sisters 

a bond and a friendship but also a conflict 

I feel warm because they are here 

I love this city 

my words run on the current of my emotions 

and the lakes of Edinburgh are streaming in intimacy and understanding

in my mind 

two seats with stairs connecting one another 

I do not think about anyone but a life where I can see myself happy