Through the eyes of Mohamed Mattar
About a month ago, news came that a young man had died protecting two women in Sudan. He was shot. His favorite color was blue and that’s where #blueforsudan comes from. They still need our help and that’s only possible through spreading awareness. So this is me, doing that in the way I know how to.
This poem is fictitious but hopeful.
(TW: misery, death)
26, died protecting two women.
Stood like a wall
made of every instance throughout his life that made him
the man we know;
protecting his humanity to the very last breath.
With his finger wrapped around the width
of his mother’s finger
like a burka around the head,
he must’ve said his first proper word when he was 17 months old.
“aas-” giggles “-rakkh” drools.
azraq, blue.
His mother must’ve told his abbu and cried a little.
Despite living in a conservative household,
his parents probably spoke to him about everything.
He must’ve known about the horrors women had to face
at the hands of men who slaved for liquor,
at the hands of monsters that called themselves human.
While his bedtime stories were of castles,
his dreams must’ve been of being worthy of it.
When Mohamed turned 13,
he cut a black forest cake for the first time.
It must’ve been a gift
because his friend’s mother had called to thank him
for saving her kid from the bullies,
or judging by the type of man he was,
it must’ve been a gift by the bullies to thank him
for making them human.
Some random facts about him that I think
could be true:
His first breakup was mutual.
His favorite food was kofta.
He was always a good man.
His favorite t-shirt had the graphic of a cute doggo.
He loved cats too.
His mother was proud of him.
One fact that is definitely true:
we are proud of him.
Two hours before he became the voice of Sudan,
he cut a black forest cake for the last time.
He’s gone but his first word has stayed behind,
to protect.
26, died protecting two women.
Into stories? – Autumn
Instagram – @myspirals
My Spirals 