epistolary poem to my plants
FARAH ALI FAWZA
To my dearest plants,
I know none of this is natural. You are originally native to tropical jungles and temperate forests, where you would be towering high over acres and acres of land with the rest of your tribe in your natural habitat. But here you are, held captive to a person who grew up never caring for plants. There weren't rows of overgrown aloe vera in the balcony of my childhood two-bedroom apartment, or towering bamboo poles in ornate vases in random corners of my teenage living room.
Here you are, victim to my spontaneous whims. Only acknowledged if I felt like watering you today in my Dubai one-bedroom after 8 hours working in the gulf heat, glued to my screen sending emails, trying to bear the fruits of my labour at the end of the month, to acquiring more of your friends for my ever-growing personal plant collection.
Yet, in such a radically different environment to what you know, you’ve defied your own natures and adapted to a kind space where you are wholesomely celebrated and appreciated for every single new leaf you grow, every random flower you bloom, and provide happiness to me the more time we spend together.
I was once held captive too. I was raised in a country that considered me a weed to their habitat, and every other person who was not like them. According to them, you see, I was never meant to grow in their garden. I shouldn’t have been there, where I stayed and settled. How dare I have the nerve to sustain myself off their resources and nutrients in a place that was my one and only home, that I was born and raised in, where I spent years trying to grow and develop around such a volatile habitat.
Being with you has taught me so much. That plants root faster when you add the adaptable pothos plant next to it. That growing is never about creating optimal conditions, rather it is about defying nature, overcoming turbulence and deprivation, then adapting in strange spaces to finally seek the emotional support and nourishment we all really crave for.
Thank you for being so understanding. In the midst of my own radical shifts and turbulent soils I try to navigate through, you lean slightly towards the sunlight and ration your water, telling me it's okay that I need rest today, you will still be okay tomorrow.
With immense gratitude,
Farah
Farah Fawzi Ali is an Egyptian-Filipina writer and events curator. Driven by her mixed cultural heritage and Gulf upbringing, Farah is committed to widening spaces of representation and offering platforms for community-spirited interactions and personal histories. Farah’s passion for literature, cultivating reflective discourse and collective meaning-making is often interwoven in her writing, research, and programming endeavours. Her written work can be found in Postscript Magazine, MariasAtSampaguitas, Art Dubai, and Global Art Daily. She is the founder of Faire Trade, a sustainably-conscious swap shop that encourages the circular exchange of the community's once-loved belongings. She has a BA in Political Science from the American University in Cairo and is an alumnus of The Assembly at Jameel Arts Centre. She also writes book reviews on instagram.