Dark Light

In Memory of My Friend M. Al-Hawaj  

by Wael al-Mahdi

Our student meals, grilled breasts and coke,
while noon withdrew its sweaty fingers.

The rounds about the artless town
as youth’s bored snake devoured its tail.

I can’t forget our home-bound rides
in hefty coaches headed South;
our stops at fictive borders where
your passport color deems your worth.

I left, they moved you to the North,
where desolation broke your breath.

But here, we’re always dipping south,
as mother desert halves the sun.


Artwork Courtesy of Reda Khalil

Related Posts

Lost

As waves pillage the coastal towns,and refugees cling to their roofs,I want my now to ask your thenwhat…