March 11, Qom. I have just returned to the hotel. The others have gone out—the lights are off, the room is dim. My only company is the soft breeze drifting through the window. I have spent the better part of the morning grappling with the trellises of my soul. My brain is tired. My heart,… Continue reading drenched in light
Category: Ziyara
this time
The last time that I stood here, I was twenty-three years old. I can still smell the dusky heat of that auburn summer night. I can still hear the silky silence, punctuated by the frantic thudding of my heart. I can still taste the burn of farewell’s ash lodged inside my throat. I can still… Continue reading this time
what the night holds
It is the early hours of night. Dark clouds drift wearily across the horizon. The moon, wrested from her slumber, casts a forlorn glance across her shoulder before settling her face to the east. I sit in the darkness of a silent house, the glow of my screen reflecting pale shadows against my hands. I… Continue reading what the night holds
becoming human
There is a special bottle I keep, tucked away in the corner of a hidden drawer: Use in Case of Emergency. A deep shade of pink, three-quarters full, sparkling with a liquid more precious to me than most of my possessions -- not for the contents themselves, but for where they take me. Four years… Continue reading becoming human
kindred spirits
It is a warm summer's night in Qom. I sit on the floor in Masjid-e-Jamkaran and look up at the ceiling, admiring the beauty of the architecture, the interlacing weaving of the Arabic calligraphy - composed with such precision, but in its composition, somehow still as wild and free-flowing as foam rising on waves of… Continue reading kindred spirits
ascent beckons
the task of a carefree summer's day: to watch the sunset over the city of Qom by climbing to the top of Mt. Khidhr... a task so adventure-y i didn't think twice about it until we were halfway to the top - when (of course) i decided to do the exact opposite of what every book/movie/story/piece… Continue reading ascent beckons
whispered lessons from the dust of Najaf
is there any heartache for which i can lay out my heart that you do not already know, my Lord? is there any grief for which i can weep that you do not already know, my Lord? is there any separation wrought wound for which i can cry out in pain that you do not already… Continue reading whispered lessons from the dust of Najaf
the clock is chiming
the clock is chiming, marking the hour of separation and i am caught in a slow moving apart, a heavy gaze, a drinking in with the thirst of one dying the angles of your face, the wrinkles of your eyes, holding your cloth, breathing in the remnants of scent of the only person i have… Continue reading the clock is chiming
the dust of the king
21 ramadhan 1436 | najaf, iraq it is shortly after Fajr prayers, the early morning of the day you were killed. i am standing, leaning against blue tiles in an archway of your harram, head resting against cool marble, tears falling like drops of burning oil upon my skin. glancing across the courtyard, it is… Continue reading the dust of the king
mother
alone, a traveler in a strange land, I found myself standing before you. like a small child, lost and confused I fell at your feet, stumbling upon the weight of my tears. the labyrinth of sorrows suffocated, twisting unbearable knots in my chest. I was bewildered, not knowing which way to turn. and then, I felt the tenderness… Continue reading mother
wishing
"before i met you, i was wishing to meet you.and after meeting you, i was wishing to never be separated from you.and after being separated from you, i lost the desire to wish forever." اللَّهُمَّ صَلِّ عَلَى مُحَمَّدٍ وَ آلِ مُحَمَّدٍ
journey to the stars
This past summer, I was honored with the blessing of being able to travel to the holy lands of Iraq and Iran to visit the resting places of the descendants of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him and his family), a visitation that is often referred to as “ziyara,” or “ziyarat.” "The word ‘Ziyarat’ is… Continue reading journey to the stars
Protected: sweet, sweet Samarra
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
would that i were with you
there is a certain emptiness of the heart that is only filled by standing at the gate to your harram, ya Ali. would that i were of the lucky ones who are standing there now – stepping forward with heavy, yearning steps; hands on their aching, restless hearts; heads lowered in salute to you; eyes… Continue reading would that i were with you
Protected: the ineffable courage of love
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leaving you,
the time has come for me to part from the sands that whisper your names. the lands where your beautiful bodies lay. the dust whose sweet fragrance winds its way through my dreams. the time has come, but my feet have forgotten how to leave. and my tongue has forgotten how to speak. when I… Continue reading leaving you,
to see the ones i love
"Wouldn't you want to see the ones you love?" As I sit in my room packing my suitcase and checking things off scrambled lists, this question, articulated at many a dinner-table discussion by my dad, echoes through my brain. I will soon be leaving InshaAllah (God-willing) to visit for the first time the holy lands… Continue reading to see the ones i love
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