Prose
Mourning
The moment I heard the Imam christen my mother a name I’ve only read in books, I heard a sound synonymous to the creak of
The moment I heard the Imam christen my mother a name I’ve only read in books, I heard a sound synonymous to the creak of
If you’re too green For a place, Everyone can feel it. As sure as self is Close to the entrance A walled chasm Of separation
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Until you let go of what hurts you,
screaming won’t ease the pain.
The day stars new all is peaceful at sun up a fresh strong breath of tree’s The Christmas tree is filled with a thousand memories
The Walls We Build: “There is loneliness in this world so great that you can see it in the slow movement of the hands of
I’m skilled at bottling up my feelings but I’ll burst if you shake me. one pull at a loose thread and I come apart at