Amir Darwish is a British Syrian poet & writer of Kurdish origin who lives in London. Born in Aleppo & came to Britain as an asylum seeker in 2003. Amir has an MA in International Relations of the Middle East from Durham University, UK and a BA in history from Teesside University, UK. He published his work in the UK, USA, Pakistan, India, Finland, Turkey, Canada, Singapore & Mexico. Currently, he is doing an MA in creative and life writing at Goldsmiths University, London.

amirdarwish32 (@gmail.com)

Where I come from

From the earth I come

To the earth I come

From the heart of Africa

From the kidneys of Asia

From India with spices I come

From a deep Amazonian forest

From a Tibetan meadow I come

From an ivory land

From far

From everywhere around me

From where there are trees, mountains, rivers and seas

From here, there, from everywhere

From the womb of the Mediterranean I come

From a mental scar

From closed borders

From a camp with a thousand tents

From shores with Alan the Kurd I come

From a bullet wound

From the face of a lone child

From a single mother’s sigh

From a cut in an inflatable boat about to sink

From a bottle of water for fifty to share

From frozen snot in a toddler’s nose

From a tear on a father’s cheek

From a hungry stomach

From a graffito that reads, “I was here once”

From another one a tree says “I love life”

From a missing limb

Like a human with everything I come to share the space.

(Alan Kurdi (Kurdish: Alan Kurdî‎), initially reported as Aylan Kurdi,[1][2] was a three-year-old Syrian boy of Kurdish ethnic background[3] whose image made global headlines after he drowned on 2 September 2015 in the Mediterranean Sea.)

What I left behind 

I left that table with three books, a tea glass dirty

An ashtray

The TV remote still lost somewhere between cushions

A wall with a mixture of rotten green broken yellow light

Small window into an empty street

A white tissue travels lonely in a windy ruined alley

I left a pregnant apple tree

A sink full of pans, has remnants of favourite dish from last night

My plate among them with a tulip

I left half a bottle of red wine near bed

Money notes wrinkled

A belt with broken buckle

The art work in the corridor

The man in it hand on cheek tearful eyes

The forest behind him huge as the memory it leaves behind

I left a tape player once a lover gifted me

The Kurdish singer Mohammed Sixo on it screams

Oh the land Oh the land

I left my school desk with my name engraved,

The teacher who lectures me every time I bring a poetry book

Instead of syllabus book

I left the old corner shop

With a debt book

That has my name

Left the new shoe yet to wear

The yellow laces I bought

To go with it

My mother who stops by the door signals “come food is ready”

I left a generous father who daily comes home with bags of figs, apples

And occasionally roast chicken in right hand

I left home.