Photo by Ikram Ali

*History series continues next week*

*This piece forced its way out of me*

*This is not a poem*

*Just words*

There are nights. Mm.

There are nights. There are nights, after a day of everything, when one can only smile and feel the thanks escape from their lips. Today I sat by a kiosk and drank Sprite, sat in a café and laughed with some of the most wonderful women in my life, finished the night off with a friend, her boyfriend and her sister, and I found wonder.

Wonder is in people, in…people.

There are nights. Mm.

There are nights. I had a night yesterday, with someone rather…exciting. Glory that is too much to speak aloud.

There are nights.


There was that night earlier this week when I found out that a certain direction was not to be for me, and the world did not shatter. I was calm, mm, pretty calm. I sat up, rolled those sleeves and looked ahead.

There are nights when my father looks at me with the softest eyes.

There are nights when, in your speaking, in your telling a story, in your telling your story, you realise, as the words fall out, that things were not always as you thought they were. You realise that maybe you glorified the past more than it deserved to be, that maybe there were very real problems with that place you ache, ached for so much, and that you should perhaps look more kindly on the road you travel now.

There are nights when you sit and wonder about your dreams, and decide to map your way to them.  You trace your fingers along paths, long and winding. You look at the rivers that lie by those paths. You pore over pages and pages of possibilities, and hope that one day, as you sit in the softness of their realisation, you will remember a night like this.

There are nights when you just want to wash your hair, feel what shampoo can do for a night.

There are nights when you go to the fridge, and, not expecting much, you find beetroot and mango juice.


There are nights.

There are nights when he is away and you are not speaking to him, and you realise that the company you offer yourself is not bad at all. You sit back and realise that you are quite fine. In this sitting back, you realise that this satisfaction is exactly—exactly what you have been after. You are happy.

There are nights when you discover the most comfortable pants, and there is no going back.

There are nights when breathing is easy, but on all nights it is a delight.

There are nights washed by the moon. 

Don’t you feel, in those nights, that your dreams are standing upright?

On this particular night, I am headed to bed, spirit calm and reaching. My spirit is reaching for the things yet to come, the things whose coming I yearn for, and the things whose coming will surprise me. There are nights when all we can do is sleep well.

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