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

A Sparrow’s Tongue

A blue sparrow landed on my windowsill, and began to warble a melody that embodied all the beauty…