free
by Salma Abedullah
by Salma Abedullah
Free,
That’s the memory of water that I think of,
My bathtub’s water turned into the Mediterranean Sea,
I can see the palm trees and the piercing sun above,
I think of how I was always in my father’s embrace,
His fear of me flowing away with the waves,
While he felt that his arms would confine me,
His presence with me in the water truly made me feel free.