She haunts us. And we like it.

A lot.

She’s a cherub-faced Somalian-born poet who breaches and invades and caresses every dark vulnerable place life has to offer – from love, to deceit, to war and redemption. And she does so with such fearless and aching beauty. In her poem about refugees fleeing war-torn countries entitled ‘Home’ she writes:

no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear
saying-
leave

and

the words are more tender
than fourteen men between
your legs
or the insults are easier
to swallow
than rubble
than bone
than your child’s body
in pieces.
i want to go home,
but home is the mouth of a shark

A Kenyan-born Somalian, she migrated to the United Kingdom at the age of one. She received a B.A in Creative Writing and has won numerous awards. In 2011, she released “Teaching My Mother How To Give Birth” and most recently was formally introduced to those who know not better on Beyonce’s “Lemonade” album where one could argue- she stole the show.

I mean, seriously. The girl’s got talent. She has the ability to capture so much in so little space, like when she writes

“I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are
still together.”

or

and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
prettier
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him traveling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love?
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love

(silence)

She makes you want to run, but you can’t. You must stay. You are paralyzed and breathless and open. She has you, and now you belong to her. And she will not release.

If you haven’t already, make sure you check this sista out.