These three poems by Abduljalal Musa Aliyu were especially chosen for The Bala Selection.
The Bala Selection is a weekly poetry feature curated by Ismail Bala for Konya Shamsrumi, showcasing distinctive new voices and resonant works from across Africa and beyond. Through his discerning eye, each selection highlights the craft, music, and emotional clarity that define contemporary poetry in its most luminous form.
Ismail Bala is a poet, translator, and critic whose work bridges classical poetics and modern sensibility, and whose mentorship has shaped a generation of emerging African poets.
Petrichor
When rain beats the dry earth,
some bacteria are rendered homeless;
upset, they discharge a pleasant smell.
This is the kind of energy I want to
soil the world with. I have
wandered so far from God that He
cursed me with fire in my heart—
so large, it could kill an ocean.
I smoke joint with the boys, & wallaahi
I enjoy it more than the weight of
my girlfriend lying naked
on my torso.
After a huge sin, I sit on my prayer rug
& talk to Allaah—beg him to rain my
heart with comfort before the guilt
ruins me. & if I cry, I know my heart is
purified. But, like this poem, my life is
formless:
I go back to every sin after my
heart is purified.
The Four Enemies
1.
نَفْس
I am in a constant wrestle with myself.
I cover one nakedness, & another
opens. I know, I know, it’s a filth to
say that my body was meant for hell.
But, what is this constant flirt
with sins?
2.
الھوٰی
If I knew how to control my hunger,
the flow of my life wouldn’t be
punctuated by waves of trauma.
My desires control me;
I am as dangerous as a man
holding a knife to his throat.
3.
الدنيا
The world is a prison for the believer,
& a paradise for the unbeliever.
Why then do I not live like an inmate?
My soul is River Naija, always
changing form, always bending to
accommodate what the earth throws
at it. Maybe I am drawn to heaven
solely because I can’t stretch my hand
to feel it. Maybe if I could, like me,
I will find out that it needs saving too.
4.
شيطان
If I were an attorney, Shaytan will
definitely be my client.
Man invites woes upon himself &
blames it on a being he can’t even
see. Granted, the Quran says he
whispers into our ears. But he doesn’t
tie a rope to our necks, like a bedouin
coercing a cow to plough, and says:
you must commit this sin!
I have a diarrhea of words; I sleep
like a dolphin; I satiate every hunger
I feel; I converse with humans
more than I converse with God,
& yet, when I talk to Him, I say:
I seek refuge with Allaah from satan,
the accursed—am I not a satan too?
Quandary
You kissed me, & your lips tasted like
coffee—bitter, yet delicious, like the
flavor of our love when our hearts
are free of sorrow. My hand crawled
beneath your skirt & you smiled—
beautiful, this your art of consent.
But what poem do you write in the
heart of your lover when they are
grieving? I am not fluent in this
braille of pain. God, how does a
man deal with secondhand dolor?
I am a poet. In this fraternity, we
write songs even when in darkness.
But wouldn’t my lover question my
conscience if I turn her woe into
verses? I beg you, tell me no
secrets; there is an ogre
somewhere in my head that pumps
everything I hoard through the
veins of my pen. James Baldwin said
freedom can’t be given.
Help me,
how do I emancipate myself?
About Abduljalal Musa Aliyu
Abduljalal Musa Aliyu is a school teacher and poet. He writes from Zaria, Nigeria. His work appears in adda, Chestnut Review, Vast Chasm Magazine, Brittle Paper, Lucky Jefferson, Efiko, 3 of Cups anthology and elsewhere. He rants on Twitter @AbduljalaalMusa.
