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Still Life With War Part 1: Nightrunners

 

Thinking of Yemen, as always, the home of my heart, where so much of who I am today was born, mash’Allaah. War cannot be imagined, it can only be lived, and remembered.

And remembered…

tonight I saw
nightrunners
again
corner of my eye
visions
a hand splayed
over tree bark
head, shoulders
crouched
not to spring
but to listen
I pray as I approach
knowing our paths
have to cross
sometime
please let him
let me by
this once
tomorrow
forever
remembering
cold night
behind mud walls
hearing
sandalled feet
run by
or worse
creep stealthily
up
fabric against stone
so close I can feel
his heartbeat
so cold
huddled under
layers of true dark
no streetlights
to give even a hint
wondering
is the window too small
please let it be
let him be too big
try to remember
please
did I lock the door?

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