Pomme De Terrre Mohammed Umar

This poem is an attempt to accepting an understanding grief, grief that is yet to transpire. An attempt to accepting an understanding.

This poem possesses the dissatisfaction I feel skirting around the German word "Erklärungsnot": a tempest of the mind.

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What is there in our lives other than the remembrance of lost youth and lamentation for what is? This poem is about these moments.

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I recorded these poems from Anthropogenic Activities in an empty mosque on our school campus, in an attempt at finding a quiet place to record, otherwise I would not have made these recordings. So, I ask that you bear with me the background noise from the street nearby and the boy sweeping the grounds and consider them as white noise: nothing more, nothing less.

I like to think, in the end, certain things become enveloped into themselves again; they return to their subdued form–we.

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Recently, I cannot help but juxtapose grief with selfishness; there is a codependence I cannot explain: a necessity to living and co-dependence.

I asked myself as I redrafted this poem: "Are we in the shadow of something greater than us, that we cannot rebut? Our lives is in a trajectory we cannot direct."