by October 11, 2022 0 comments

After Mike Dillon’s World War ll.

The final destruction my father misinterpreted
Was acted perfectly in my brother’s school play
And thank goodness for my phone recorder.
On our way home,
The recording leaked into reality.
My aunt in Texas called to remind
Me of verses 51 & 52 of Surah Al-qalam.
I peeped through the windscreen
And buses and the people they conveyed
Looked exquisite as terror:
Young boys were conquering
As much as the war was,
Shoulder blades aligned in the masjid
Between the famine and the deaths.
As we alighted the car, with love,
Between my trembling feet and the mantra,
I worried my neck to pronounce hawa as love
Between my mother’s sadness.
I wanted to know where the stress lay.
I wanted to know how it felt to carry a
Sad vision home.
I wondered how many words my father misinterpreted,
Knowingly and unknowingly.
And how many verses I still had time to recite.

– Abdulrazaq Salihu

editors note:

No matter how it ends, we want to see it from a distance. – mh clay

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