My Blog

Count of Three

The siege of Damaaj has entered its fifty-fourth day. Three people were injured yesterday, one seriously. According to Shaakir McGill:

“Medical Report by Dr. Ahmed Shabaam Al-Waadee’ of Dammaj hospital
155 killed (may Allah accept them as martyrs)
139 missing (may Allah accept them as martyrs and facilitate their burial Ameen)
406 wounded
115 cases of severe dehydration and malnutrition of children under 5 from the 15th of Nov until the 24th
47 wounded from seniors, women and children
23 killed from seniors, women and children
67 cases of severe lung inflammation from Nov 15th until the 24th in need of a hospital

May Allah heal you Dammaj and accept your dead as Martyrs Ameen.”

I wrote this this morning for Mujaahid, who, as always, is in my heart and prayers.

Baby Yasmeen's little hand

Baby Yasmeen’s little hand


Count of Three
Listening for tell-tale crackle of long distance lines
Traveling over mountains
Across deserts
Under the sea
Through time chilled air
To reach me

Chance I had to do it right
Make it all better
Calm fears, nurture kindness
Grow in love
With my little bright-eyed boy.
Do you remember nights spent cuddled
Blue blanket warmth
Books in hand, stuffed animals stood guard
Against what, I don’t know
Dreams discarded like old skin still holding shape
But empty,
Reaching for half-formed thoughts, ideas, plans
We laughed
Joyful that we were, for those brief years

Together we faced it all
And why I found strength in your smallness
I don’t know
Maybe because it housed a little warrior,
Wise for your age and so resolute and sure,
Confident in the rightness of the world
Your place in it secure.
I remember your little pixie chin thrust out
Chest held high
You peeking through blond bangs
Ready to face anything
From bullies to bogeymen
With me your small hand firm
In mine

Years since I saw you last
Brief calls, emails, so much left unsaid
Cyberworld forbidding that human touch
Fingertips brushed through fever wet hair
Pressed against tummy that aches
Cupped over heart that holds so much pain
Preventing the light brush of lips.
Sweet feather eyelash kisses against a cheek
Fingers intertwining, tree roots deep, strong, sure
Tremble as the earth around them shifts
Changes direction, moves forward bit by bit
I hold you tight, little man, in my heart
For three times three million if need be
Until our two paths merge
And again, we are one.

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