A hurricane is near.

It emerges from the outskirts and finds its way to my mind-

The epicentre.

There is no helping me now; I have lost

What it means to be found.

So tell me not of rationality or love or fulfilment,

For I am empty,

And the hurricane, it comes,

And it sweeps up the debris of stagnant satisfaction.

I am now happy, for I am empty no longer.

The calm centre- the eye of the storm- is where I stand, breathe,

My blood boils and my thoughts are a whirlwind,

But I stand and I breathe.

I let the hurricane lift me from the comfort of the ground.

It plunges me into the unknown,

And sheds the part of my skin that dared to make me feel unworthy.

Sadia Ahmed, 2016