Every map I still own folds back to the sea.I was weaned on salt; I learned to want from the sea.
They ask me where I'm from. I point at water.I say: the house is gone, but I still own the sea.
My mother sewed our papers into her coat.Even the documents came out smelling of the sea.
What is exile but an argument with a horizon —the land saying stay, and winning, and still the sea.
Call me Noor. It means light. It is what a lighthousespends the whole night giving, for free, to the sea.
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Nadia Osei3 October 2026
The refrain never tires, which is the hardest thing in a ghazal. "I learned to want from the sea" is the one I'll keep.