Time Machine

Remember when earth worms were

A part of everyday life

And news stations were background noise

Travel back for a moment

Back to sticky jam

Pressed against stubby fingers

The smell of incense burning

On a Saturday afternoon

When cool air making its way

Through your living room window

Felt like an embrace

I know you remember

The moment

You perfected a flawless cup of tea

Pounding cardamon and cloves

The aroma of crushed cinnamon

Remember feeling like an adult

How about the first time

You drowned in a sparkling diraac

I know you can feel yourself

Tucking in the excess material

Before running off with friends

But still tripping on the hem

Your hands clasping

Layers of silk dress

What about the day

You received your first paycheck

Do you recall

The smile plastered on your face

As you calculated the cost of

All the things you were going to buy

How about the way

You’d sing

As you steered the wheel of a car

You didn’t own

Friends you no longer see

Still in tow

Can you see those moments

The ones that’d have your heart bursting

With pure joy

Why didn’t anyone warn us

One day you’re living

Collecting new experiences like Pokemon cards

And then it stops

Now you’re an adult

Mechanically making tea

The same way you always have

Wondering if you’ll get to work

Before that coworker that asks

Too many questions

Driving in the same direction you do

Everyday

Tuned into a station you seem to be glued to

The weather man making a joke about snow

And still

I hope you know

Not to let the blare of mind-numbing

Sameness

Drown out the purity of life

You’re still in there somewhere

You’re still you

about the poet

I am a Somali-Canadian writer based in Ottawa, Ontario, with a deep passion for storytelling and poetry that began in my childhood. From a young age, I have enjoyed expressing myself through words. Recently, I have taken steps to share my work with a broader audience, and I am proud to have been featured in Habasooda’s first zine.