I

untitled

i close my eyes and i am
back in the mountains of kabul
and my next breath
is a breath of the yasmin
you have braided into your hair
and the mendhi flowers
inked on your hands
and you are sitting on our marriage bed
soaking up
faiz and hafez
and i remember
your red kamees
a wedding present
from your khala in herat

shakeela -

i had to leave for work that day
my back was aching,
still sore from yesterday’s harvest
my hands still musky, dirt and latex
and i didn’t want to go

you wanted to see the seas of red
to steal away dada’s camera
to take pictures of your slender frame
hidden between the fields

shakeela –

we didn’t have our morning chai that day,
i almost missed morning prayer,
i left for the fields
with the scent of rosewater,
with the scent of you
still lingering on my sweat

shakeela –

i remember calling to you,
‘allah pa’aman’ as i left
but god didn’t keep you safe,
that sunny afternoon
our mala exploded
a million fragmented pieces
of life and love and existence,
turning powder in the air

i never came home shakeela
i came back to rubble, ash and dust
you, dark and red
staining the walls of our house

we never got to take those pictures
now the only pictures i have of you
are forever seared into my mind

appendix:
yasmin – jasmine
mendhi – henna
kamees –long tunic
allah pa’aman’ – goodbye, may god protect you
mala – neighborhood street