#As_hannah_thinks

FRIDAY always reminds me of someone who inspired me to #write and do all the things I do on this channel. Her name is Dr. Hannah Tsehay. She has a Telegram channel called As Hannah Thinks. She is a St. Paul graduate. Well, obviously! 😁 የጠቢባን መፍለቂያ በሉት ጳውሎስ! 😆 She used to write the most amazing pieces for us, especially when she was on campus. And she does it every Friday! አሁን የሥራ ጫናው ያዛት, and she got invested in other, bigger projects. But back then, reading her stories and poems was one of my favorite things to do every Friday night. The beauty of her articles tells you just how committed she was to writing. You could feel the thought, effort, and heart behind every piece. Recently, she posted a book cover she has been working on. And guess what?? The title of the book is As Hannah Thinks. ❤️ I really hope she brings us more of those beautiful pieces of art in this book too. FRIDAYS? As Hannah Thinks. This post is directly attributed to Dr. Hannah for inspiring me to write. I don't think she even knows this story. But if you're reading this, Hannah, all of us here are proud of you! 😊 Check out her channel 👉 here @nks_journal

Grateful now, grateful then 😊🖤

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[You Will Know] Doom scrolling through life, and somehow I stumbled upon you. Trust me. When I love, you will know. It is that unmistakable. And I can't keep a poker face. It spills over. Like genuine laughter escaping the corner of your lips. Energetic. Like a boisterous toddler who just discovered running, eager for the world, impossible to cage. Obvious. Like a billboard on a highway, hard to ignore. Spacious. Like a sprawling mansion with no room for doubt. Treasured. Like an expensive purchase, you still have the receipt for. I will not hide it. I cannot hide it. I tuck away pieces of us in an airtight bottle made of glass. They announce themselves with a loud pop whenever I lift the cap. When I love, you will know. Ask the ጀምበር. You do not have to wonder. @As_hannah_thinks 📸 ዲላ

And Regardless, it is still አርብ😃 Have a good one ✌️🏾😊🖤

[ Liturgies of becoming ] May May be Probably Possibly Patron saint of almost All-most Still Some left May-be-er I wonder What would have been of us May came and went silently It didn't "be" Another year Another May Another Maybe Mistaken for destiny @As_hannah_thinks 📸 Credit: Ruhama. T

From February to May, this year's months been unusual ingredients for my poems. Here is something in the name of May Good Friday 😊🖤✌️🏾

#As_hannah_thinks pinned «Some of you may know that I have been running this channel for seven years now. Yes, seven solid years and I am deeply grateful for it. Some of you have been here since the very beginning. Others joined along the way. Either way, I appreciate every one of…»

[Limbo] Let loose, they say. Like my gatekeepers would cut me some slack. Like this brain of mine would give me space. They told me I should let go. I wanted to come clean about the dozens of tabs left opened for months on my browser. I wanted to tell them how I avoid shutting down my computer, I fear closing those tabs. What if I need them again? Instead, I let my computer sleep. And I sleep on piles of unclosed chapters of my life. I am bound to the what-ifs. Certainty rarely visits and it never stays long enough to bail me out. It’s like my brain and my gut are anastomosed by a tight knot. And my heart is having this watershed area, vessels feeding a non-healing, non-dying, stubborn penumbra. Blood in my arteries. Suffering in vain. From my head to my ankle, Circulation without a circle. @As_hannah_thinks 📸 Credit: Nahom F. Wale

Thinking the week is over but it is still Wednesday P.S: Share along the channel, help my poems travel 😊🖤✌️🏾

😉 👇 https://substack.com/@ashannahthinks?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=5u0t1p

How ya'll liking our extended substack corner #As_hannah_thinks? Thank you for joining 😊 https://substack.com/@ashannahthinks?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=5u0t1p

https://open.substack.com/pub/ashannahthinks/p/grateful?utm_source=share&utm_medium=android&r=5u0t1p

Some of you may know that I have been running this channel for seven years now. Yes, seven solid years and I am deeply grateful for it. Some of you have been here since the very beginning. Others joined along the way. Either way, I appreciate every one of you for being part of this little corner we built together. Seven years feels like the right moment to turn a page. I have started sharing my poems on Substack. Both the old and the new. Some older pieces that were lost in the cracks of time, and new ones finding their voice. If you enjoy the words we share here, subscribe and join me there as well. Think of it as an extension of this family. And who knows… this might just be the warm-up for something even bigger (😉😉) https://substack.com/@ashannahthinks/note/p-190542269?r=5u0t1p

🎶 🖤🎶

[ 🗓️ February 🗓️ ] Perfect like February Perfect like the colour of your eyes Perfect like twenty eight Perfect like the curve of your smile 28, Late for the twenties, And yet right on time for “now” Just a little fewer than usual, a little “full”-er than normal Not more Not less Just enough It is like February From the time I meet you to the time we meet again Even like the days I see you, Odd like the days I miss you It is like time is ironed and now it's wrinkle-free ...Perfect like February @As_hannah_thinks

[On the Days He has It Together] He thinks some days are the ideal days to die to pass away, to leave it all behind. Those days he has called his parents and shared a few laughs with his siblings and friends. Those days he has showered with his cedarwood body wash, worn his favourite sandalwood cologne, put on his dark blue collared shirt and black pants. Those days his apartment is clean and tidy, laundry done, clothes ironed and folded. Those days his shelf is organised, the dishwasher is empty, the trash taken out. Those days he has read his Bible and prayed in the morning. Those days he has it all together. To him, those days feel like the ideal days to die, or maybe the ideal nights to leave all this behind. He watches the doorstep all day as if waiting for a visit from a loved one, for death to come by. But when death does not arrive, after all that waiting, and night finally falls, he puts on fresh pyjamas, slips into clean bedsheets, and whispers, “O death, where is your sting? O death, where is your victory?”

Some good Sunday afternoons make up for missed Friday evenings. If my poems speak to you, help them travel...share the channel😃 I've been cooking something something. Good day😊🖤✌️🏾

[Hapologia] The fundamentals in life are more mental than being fun. Who would have thought the late twenties meant to be this revelatory. There is a blind spot that scars my vision board. My mental map deviates, finding loopholes that only lead back to that blind spot. Maybe my myopia is metaphysical. I’ve lived life as an underdog but never owned a puppy. I love animals, though. (I often think of petting a baby elephant and a baby giraffe.) Sometimes I am lazy in my bones. I drink coffee straight from the thermos, too spent to lift a mug. No peculiar mission No burning passion. Nothing cinematic About the way I carry on I love hiking. And if there has ever been a hill I am willing to die on, it must be Golgotha. @As_hannah_thinks 📸 Credit: Nahom F. ጎንደር