I paint swirls on banners and marigolds on teacups,
polish the cutlery and set out the tablecloths.
Â
aching soul,
restless,
mind never quite at ease
grief takes its home
in between
is Jannah as sweet,Â
without the triumph of making it there?
would the rest be blissful,Â
without the toils of this world?
The world is still exactly the same. And nothing is the same anymore The seasons carry a certain air of…
I know what burning flesh smells like
do not be too disturbed—
it has only been within the sterile walls
of an operating room
Cauterized before hemorrhage occurs
I’ve made a journey of days
er, months
no, years in fact
in this body of mine.
Love, I say..
Can live many lives
And die many deaths
a shovel strikes the soilin the ancient citybayn-al-jabalaynbetween the two mountainsthe red soil turnsstrike after strike a golden axe glimmersrendering…
