Faiza Yahaya Maibasira is a spoken word artist, a writer and a poetess .Her works have been published in online publications including poetry stage and the Yasmin Elrufai Foundation.

Oluwa

No sermon would make the wind hotter than the sun.

I grew up watching the clouds sketch themselves into reality,

Into oblivion: a fancier name for exile, for the phase my body 

Has refused to escape…

In the masjid, we’re reminded of our sins,

Nobody says anything about preachers with sins beneath their clean hands 

So the only people we tag as devils are ourselves,

&

Does the devil own a home here?

Because every time I sought home,

I say an istighfar for every step that leads me home

And reality becomes a wrap of ashes; water melts her,

Tears  her sockets, and pour us sinisters into our hells

for every dream we’d never get to escape,

For every prayer, the preacher taught with his body,

And for every charity, he gives,

We’re his witness —he’s man

And we’re his witness 

All humans are equal, but preachers are different

And we’re his witness 

God-sent men are liars!

Contributor’s Bio

Faiza Yahaya Maibasira is a spoken word artist, a writer and a poetess .Her works have been published in online publications including poetry stage and the Yasmin Elrufai Foundation.

Send Us Your Best Work!

Our submissions window is currently open. We are eager to read your poems, fiction, and nonfiction; send us your best work, today.