and she stepped out of the grove

By

letters dropping
from the first sky like
maple     seeds
.
.
the ba’ the nun the ta’
.
catching on her arm
a tendril
              and spilling out
.
her kind
.
             bint
.
the word for girl and daughter
.
             the word for plant
.
             rearranged
.
the first girl taught us
              after birth to twist
spend our lives apologizing to our mothers
.
we rejoice when birds inhale us
raise our waterskins to the sun
.
tell me about my birth my migration
my coming to this language not my language
               in your samar did you cut buds
               out of your bodies
.
               root me into
               the singing earth
.
.
tell me later about my name
each letter carried
in the bowl of a different bird

Aiya Sakr

Aiya Sakr was born in the United States but grew up in Amman, Jordan, with Palestinian and Egyptian heritage. She is the author of Her Bones Catch the Sun (The Poet’s Haven, 2018). A Pushcart Prize nominee, her poems have appeared in Mizna, Nimrod, and elsewhere. She has a master’s degree in literature and writing from Utah State University. Currently, she’s completing an MFA in poetry at Purdue University, where she serves as Poetry Editor for Sycamore Review.

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