Looking for the inner peace,
I am walking down my street,
in the North of London;
I ask myself: "How did I get here? "
Lately, I just been soul searching,
looking at my past and how it shaped my present.
"So what does the future hold for me? "
A young Somali man, confused about his identity.
Born in Arabia to the ‘descendants',
so always thought I was one.
"Wait, ain't I an Arab….Somali? "
I guess I can't remove my Arab identity,
and the influence it had on me.
Somalia the nation of poets.
Or my beloved Arabic poems,
the ones that I made a daily necessity,
otherwise my day feels incomplete.
And now poems in English? ? ?
England decided my fate,
to write these words in her tongue's ways.
"Is this why I'm walking on her capital's streets? "
I should really start making my way back;
I think I walked too far.
But still I have the space on my sheet
and this pen tempts me to still write.
Although I don't think it can withstand,
the millions of words trapped under this skull.
Yeah, they really wanna escape.
Call me the truth seeker;
I need to find my way.
Agnostic thoughts still surrounding,
the insides of this head.
I am just a human. One who wants to ask that ‘Only Question'.
Questioning your Creator,
trying to find the purpose of existence.
Many took that path,
and religion argues "Your consequence is Hell! "
I guess I'm Bipolar,
lost between two minds.
Probably more than that.
But at the end of the day,
I still feel close to Islam.
Just gonna recite my Shahada,
to remove all the doubts.
Tell my heart, mind and soul that:
"There's no God but ALLAH and Muhammad is his messenger."
Yes! I am back home, finally here "Mum can you open the door, it's Me? "
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem