Nesreen
And like any Eastern woman
My lady was
Filling her night’s dish with stars,
And visiting the shrines
Of the saints with a candle
And green robes.
She perfumes her house every Friday
With incense she crafted
To ward off the evil eye.
From the pumpkin flower,
Nesreen,
A morsel
That gave life to years,
And another life to living.
A chain of clay recording the histories of women
Of the color of the bloom.
She sketches joy
Amidst the darkness
To awaken the dawn,
And fashions upon her lips
Other languages for yearning
In a sea of nostalgia.
Nesreen,
Just as I came to you since I was captive,
I will leave you today,
Sad.
