I like forests because they are full of mystery and are mystical. I love that they are full of life and yet quite secretive. If you’ve ever lived near a forest, you get that sense of latency, something just coiled and waiting, a sense of fullness even when you don’t see anything but the trees. It’s like a hum, a pulsation underneath everything.
Curiosity is a part of my being. I always want to know ‘the whys’ of every colour, every song, every kindness and every decision. I am that bag of turmoil, I trap the swiftness in emotional readjustment so fast I cannot let go of the outcomes in a hurry.
Western arrogant rationality, which tends to overhaul other perspectives has ushered every part of the world into the age of "posts": post-modernism, post-marxism, post-truth, post-humanism, and we even hear things such as post-Africanity. Fortunately, Africa has not caught the flu of this chaos completely. And, as the overfed children of hypercapitalism and consumer culture get exhausted in their boredom, Africa will be the place of what being human looks like—albeit if the Western power doesn't change us too soon.
However, I write every day when I can, so that I can genuinely rest on the days when I am experiencing a creative block. This means I do a lot of scheduling and pre-writing, because how else will we be able to stay consistent in a world where you are not always 100%?
Stories From Young African Poets: Abdurrazak Learns The Art Of Boundaries And The Pain Of Rejection.
When I finally meet her I will bloom satisfaction Pluck enough to reshape into hope Track back to this moment and Seduce the small skeptic sizes Of me into waiting a bit longer
In my new book, Hold Space for Me, I would say my sense of identity is one of a courageous, vulnerable, empath. I say courageous and vulnerable because you need courage to be open and commit to staying open and vulnerable so that you can connect and empathise more with people.
Most of my poems are bold and unapologetic. My wild imagination plays a big role in my thought process. I keep a notebook beside my bed in case an idea comes to me.
Western arrogant rationality, which tends to overhaul other perspectives has ushered every part of the world into the age of "posts": post-modernism, post-marxism, post-truth, post-humanism, and we even hear things such as post-Africanity. Fortunately, Africa has not caught the flu of this chaos completely. And, as the overfed children of hypercapitalism and consumer culture get exhausted in their boredom, Africa will be the place of what being human looks like—albeit if the Western power doesn't change us too soon.
Growing up I always had this feeling of estrangement from everyone, this deep sense of loneliness and alienation.
Although this poem speaks to the loss of my mother, while also paying homage to the very essence of womanhood, my mother is still very much alive and well. In an interview with Chimee Adioha of Black Boy Review, Ukata Edwardson once said: "The truth is, in all reality, every piece of art and literature performs a little lie."
