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  • Writer's pictureLulwa NAMAN

At The End of the Day - Poetry

Hi, Nations!

Here's some poetry I've written that's part of a collection I'm producing called At The End Of The Day. Hope you enjoy it! If you do, take a look at my Instagram @lulwaspoetry for more :)


The dark, empty room made it impossible to see.

It makes its prisoners forget how long they’ve been serving for.

All that they’re left with are the last four senses.

I wept and cried as the feeling of loneliness

Swirled in monochrome colours around my head.

My stomach churned at the thought of eating once more

Which paradoxes the years of restraint I had given myself.

I sat in the middle of the room, my freezing legs numbing more and more.

There is one sound standing out among the others

Of dripping water fading into a puddle.

Ploop… Ploop... Ploop…

I slouched to the bars again for the fifth time since I woke up.

My skin flinched as it clutched the cold, rusted-smelling metal.

I stuck my arm through the gap and moved it around,

Trying to find something there,

Something to explain where I was

And if I was in it alone.

The first day I went, I put handcuffs on my wrists

And pushed my own back towards the cell.

I took a key from my jumpsuit and locked myself

In a cage next to another empty one.

I turned out the lights.

Every day I have waited to see whether you would be

On the other side, limping to the bars.

Today, as I reached out helplessly once more,

I held your familiar hand in mine, and everything was okay again.

A Story

He asked me to tell him a story of mine

From a life I had thrown away

And locked in a safe with a forgotten passcode.

I am a renewed person with no words printed

In my book,

Only blank pages with no writing, no plot,

No hook.

The tales I lived through are not the ones

He desires to hear,

Only tales of hopelessness, heartbreaks,

Fear and tears.

Be careful what you ask for,

Because I could remember

All of the people

Who broke me last September.

Why summon a demon

You exorcised and defeated

When you’re free from all

Of the cold mistreatment.

I’m sorry.

A story of mine I can’t tell.

When the Jazz Plays

Let’s go somewhere far.

We can take a plane to the ocean

Where the waves have dazzling lights

Illuminating from the water.

We can hold each other’s hands

While smooth jazz plays

And the saxophones last notes are ringing.

We can swim until we can’t see the shore any longer

And everyone who’s been keeping us apart

Disappears in those moments.

Just me and my best friend

Who are done fighting now that we’ve reached the end

And all of our dreams becoming realities

Which were previously based on oblivion.

We can prove everybody wrong in an instant

Prove our hearts right because that’s what we owe them

For not completely shattering even in those moments when

Stones of cold were being thrown at them.

Take my hand

Take my heart

Take me away

Let’s go somewhere far.


Lulwa Naman


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