Love Poems: When They Come With Machetes in Their Mouths

I am not superwoman. My mother is not superwoman. My mother’s mother is not superwoman.I am, we are, soft. Can shatter. Crumble in your hands.Our survival does not mean we prosper. We are like other women but unlike them.So do not tell us we can handle anything.We only seem like superwoman, a figment of your imagination,because you have forced our lives to be perpetual labor with only seconds of relief.If we carry the world on our shoulders and the children on our backs,what are we but your glorified mules slapped withguilt praises of perseverance and strength.Our bones and our blood and our sweat have built the wealth of nations.Our burial should not be the first time we rest.- Yasmin Mohamed Yonis (Mogadishu, Somalia)

Love Poems: Milk and Honey

8.6.2014do not slip your tongue into the mouths of menwho see your beauty when lights are dimthey do not know youdo not lay underneath men who thrust themselves inside of youbut do not ask for your mother's namethey will not love youdo not hide yourself from men whoask you to staythose who allow you to rest your weary souldid you not prayfor that milk and honey kind of love?