I can’t stop, even if I wanted to.

I’m pushed to edges

where roots

dangle.

 

But there’s no compulsion in Islam, I say to her.

She replies, you choose Truth,

so nothing else can remain.

 

All burns in His presence.

My heart is aflame.

My fingers singe soil and my eyes can’t make out the script.

 

Please tell me what it says.

Breathe on it.

Again.

My winds don’t howl loudly enough.

My cries are useless.

 

I hear thunder instead.

It comes from the East.

 

I collapse and seas surge from these almond trees.

 

What a strange garden.

 

Copyright © All Rights Reserved