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

the ways i knew you (on the death of a great man)

When I was five, I found you in the smiling curve of numbers.   I sat in the pale morning sunlight of a Sunday School classroom painted the yellow of tender summer peaches. The wind from the fan caressed my face in rounds, the buzzing gape of its mouth first turning this way then that,… Continue reading the ways i knew you (on the death of a great man)