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Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women, kitchen of love, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes, the men, they come with keys, and sometimes the men, they come with hammers.

Warsan Shire

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Warsan Shire
Age: 36
Born: 1988
Born: January 1
Poet
Writer
Republic of Kenya
Love
Rooms
Hammers
Inside
Apathy
Says
Bathroom
Mother
Bedroom
Women
Locked
Come
Kitchen
Sometimes
Grief
Men
Keys

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My heart is a flower blossoming out of my mouth.
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I know a few things to be true. I do not know where I am going, where I have come from is disappearing, I am unwelcome and my beauty is not beauty here. My body is burning with the shame of not belonging, my body is longing.
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I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes on my face they are still together.
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Two people who were once very close can without blame or grand betrayal become strangers. Perhaps this is the saddest thing in the world.
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Give your daughters difficult names. Give your daughters names that command the full use of the tongue. My name makes you want to tell me the truth. My name doesn't allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right.
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The ego hurts you like this: you become obsessed with the one person who does not love you. blind to the rest who do.
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My name is indigenous to my country, it is not easy to pronounce, it takes effort to say correctly and I am absolutely in love with the sound of it and its meaning. Also, it's not the kind of name you baby, slip into sweet talk mid sentence, late night phone conversation, whisper into the receiver kind of name, so, of that I am glad.
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How far have you walked for men who've never held your feet in their laps?
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You are terrifying, and strange, and beautiful. Something not everyone knows how to love.
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Later that night, I held an atlas on my lap, ran my fingers across the whole world, and whispered, ‘where does it hurt?’ It answered, everywhere, everywhere, everywhere.
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Sad people have the gift of time, while the world dizzies everyone else they remain stagnant, their bodies refusing to follow pace with the universe. With these kind of people everything aches for too long, everything moves without rush, wounds are always wet.
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I won't glorify or romanticise heartbreak, for me it was a kind of death and I was forced to keep living.
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At the end of the day, it isn’t where I came from. Maybe home is somewhere I’m going and never have been before.
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You can't make homes out of human beings.
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