It’s been six years since I lost him.
But in truth, the fear of losing himÂ
started much earlier.
The ocean hits the shores on the beach where children play with waves.
Down the gravel path, rays of gold set upon the bay.
Parks with lakes and ponds, where people fish.
Every waterway gives a sense of ease—Â
except one, that unsettles me.
O land of the prophets,
you are the home to the many faithful servants of Allah.
From Isa to Ishaq, Yaqub and Yusuf
The rain knows all my secrets. Each drop, a shedded tear. Engulfed in a pool of my own affliction.
There’s a place in my heart filled with ghosts. Â
