Musings | nadiafayemusic@gmail.com

I have my way of praying

Grinning at my grit earth gift

At my brimming eyes, heart-shaken / I kiss them on the forehead / And send them on their way

Look Out

So much air, so little movement

Before there’s nothing out here for me / But cars and cliffs / And shoes with no soles / And dirt that keeps on collecting

fishtail

Our river is nameless,

your two hands posed, wound upon the rope ravel, and pull me by my ribcage until we are touching at our center.

Pathways

Red threads / And slipknots

I could see your face, my face / I could hear your voice / Saying June, June / You were always singing

Spill

And I could never sleep with the sound of you breathing beside me.

Our final night, our night of spilling, I called you angel and let your wishes collect all over my most tender parts.

Notes From Berlin

In this dance with sleep, all is inky and undark

Faint light, old friend

Soon you’ll be in Norway - Soon you’ll be gone forever

Hunger Machine

Disconnect from the source

shedding earthskin, becoming something else entirely. Eyelids flitting, abstract colorways, water shapes, everywhere light.

Fetter

Above, heaven hovers in flickering pulses of light

Imogen ascends from her body in a nightly ritual, a recurring fever dream. Her breath carries her upwards, with every inhale she can feel herself rise. Her consciousness drifts as she fades in and out of sleep, reality blurs.