drenched in light

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

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