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By Cynthia Abdallah
I was twenty when the mango fell from the tree
I picked it up.
Daphny was still young then,
So I taught her how to track down the mirage
And imprison it.
I look at my hair
Still rough and kinky
Even though I use avocado oil in it.
Although it has been a decade
I just realized that the cactus
In my garden still grows there
I was twelve when my grandma died
I fell to my knees and cried to my pillow
I look into my closet
At the same style and clothes
I wore five years ago
Abdallah is a Kenyan poet born and raised in Kenya. As a writer, her desire is to reach out to the readers with a voice that was once described by her mentor and professor as naive and vulnerable yet powerful and intricate. Her pieces describe experiences that make up most of her life in a language that is riddled by use of strong images and sounds that replicate a traditional African environment yet speaks to the global world. as a writer, bettering her craft and being able to reach out to the masses is her biggest dream.
#Unreal #Poem #Poetry #CreativeWriting #Spaces #MangoTree #GrandmaDied #ThroughTheAges #PersonalGrowth
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