Winter Blossom

Does your laughter feel like
winter blossom? A fog of 
petals in your lungs, forcing
joy a season too soon.
I don’t know the taste of 
your grief. Maybe it is a
damaged earth, the world 
offbeat and threatening.
But in this spring coloured
January, you still lift your
head from the nest of 
your elbows.
Tell me to sit. 
Pour me a drink.
We break bread and spill tea 
and laugh
like there isn’t a plate at home
left empty.
Take all the time you need
to speak with the weather
inside of you. 
There is pollen 
on your finger tips from 
turning the seasons in
your throat to prayer
to Allah yarhamu, to
inna lilahi wa inna ilayhi rajiun.
I know we should say it’s never 
too soon –
not for returning to Light,
not while you’re still turning your life 
over in your hands
trying to see its beauty in a catch of sun  
but doesn’t it feel too soon though? 
Doesn’t it feel it?



Rakaya Fetuga is a poet from London. She is a Poetry Slam Winner and former Resident Artist at the Roundhouse. Commissions and collaborations include work for the English Touring Theatre, Bloomberg with Vanity Fair and the BBC.