It’s been six years since I lost him.
But in truth, the fear of losing himÂ
started much earlier.
I scratch the edge of the pendant and admire the copper rust collecting under my nail beds.A testimony – that the dustings…
It was very quiet on one Ramadan night, when little Roumana woke up from a light.
I. My grandmother’s hands were small, her fingers delicate, but they had become rough like leather from years of keeping her…
The opening of your peculiar story, Page one, heartbeat. A divinely written book, with the ink of prophecy Detail of…
This piece was published as part of an MYM partnership with Washington, D.C.’s Muslim Inter-scholastic Tournament (MIST). The highlight of…
The dark blue fortified a foreign feeling, An enigmatic emotion that was not ready to testify. ‘Twas like ink submerging…
I was delayed of making amends When that which turns was turned on end. Now rusted iron bars keep me…
