a love like my own

From where I began to where I belong, 

to the one who is a synonym to sacrifice, 

to my mother. 

I massage the feet of my mother as she sleeps 

Where I sit reminded of all the times she used to caress my cheek. 

Where she would paint a picture of the outside world through the lens of our dreams. 

Drawing the lines of this world through belief. 

The sketches would trace across the edges of walls 

and would follow her through every stall. 

She is the greatest crafter I know. 

The forefront of smiles and happy eyes 

told no lies and I think that’s what I found to be most beautiful. 

Who knew a 6 letter word could carry so much weight 

a gate, for us to open 

As Jannah (paradise) was quite literally at her feet. 

Mother. 

“Enatay”, “Hoyo” or “Ummi” 

In any language she was a women like no other. 

Because I massage the feet of my mother as she sleeps

As time and time again, where she would forget to eat 

knowing that by us being full met, she was too. 

Cause I met my mother when I was 18. 

Even though I always knew her. 

I met who she was because of who she became. 

I met my mother when I realized that the woman I became was because of her. 

I never met someone else with the toughest of skin that was also so thin. 

It was like she knew because she always knew. 

I massage the feet of my mother as she sleeps 

because of what she would tell me in my teens. 

From the “you’ll understands” 

To the “but mom I have plans” 

She defined what selflessness meant 

Painted the lines of perfection 

That Oxford couldn’t recreate. 

As I trace the cracks of her feet 

all I see are the soles of her dreams. 

The what ifs 

The could ifs 

Was all that it was 

an if.

I massage the feet of my mother as she sleeps 

Because of all the things she would tell me in my teens 

A teacher who didn’t get a teaching degree but somehow was the most qualified, 

A therapist who wouldn’t get paid by the hour- but always knew the right thing to say. 

I still turn around to catch a glimpse of my mother, 

to see if she is still behind me. 

Making sure that her presence is still present to me 

as it was a love like her own 

that taught me to love like my own.

about the poet

My name is Yasmin Said and I am an Ethiopian-Canadian creative born and raised in Toronto, having specialized in writing and spoken word poetry for over a decade. My work is deeply rooted in my experiences as a Black Muslim woman and explores themes of social justice, identity, and equity. With a background in magazine writing, editing, and performance, what began at a young age as using poetry as an outlet of narrative change, has grown into myself understanding that the words I say translate beyond just being words I say. Understanding that once you find that voice, how do you amplify it such that others can find theirs. I have had the honor of having my poetry featured in publications such as the MY Voice Canada Magazine, at the University of Toronto and performing at events at both the international and local stage such as at the City of Toronto: Toronto for All: Action Against Islamophobia launch with City of Toronto Mayor Olivia Chow in attendance. 

Art is advocacy and through my dedication and advocacy to amplifying racialized voices, my poem is inspired by my mother, who has always encouraged me to share my voice with the world as a means of reclaiming our community's narrative. And by doing so, has painted the colours of what culture truly means to me.