On the Days I Feel Torn in Two, I Feel Most Like Myself: Umarrah

April 8, 2020 Kate Belew with Umarrah (London)

It was mundane but struck me as remarkable 

a ride home in the rain, a word handed out like a dandelion 

the sky blurred by,  the city washed out like a Turner painting 

and I never knew much about art, but 

I knew of muses and 

knew how to get their attention with firecrackers on the sidewalk. 

They were interchangeable, mere smudges of your technicolor bright 

and sometimes I long to make a scene. 

Other times my solace was my books and the smell of fresh coffee on the stove but

on the days I feel torn in two, I feel most like myself. 

I reach for my single malt, a habit since I can’t reach you

and turn to that page that says 

'Ours is not a caravan of despair’ in your distinct cursive but

Listen, the wheels of this body are moving away. 

I am finding it strange that the Sun still bothers to rise,

I wait until morning to sleep, and rarely consider 

where I need to be, what I should be doing, the neat stack of missed messages on my phone

Listen, I wanted to change almost everything. 

Look, I wasn’t going to settle anymore. 

And I do not need anyone to understand.