Have you ever seen Istanbul at night?

What about during Ramadan?

This is the beauty I mean to share with the world,

The joy effortless and true,

Mouths red with pomegranate and laughter.

When I think of rage I think of a day three years ago;

We screamed at the end of the driveway, his voice echoing in the raindrops.

When I went to leave, he took my book,

The signed copy, the one I’d been carrying around as if it were my soul,

And threw it into a rain puddle.

Outside in the woods, reading-

Early morning in a land unfamiliar.

Two birds startle me, high in the treetops.

Flapping after one another incessantly.

The tops of the pines sway just enough to let me see the rising sun.

Sadness trumps rage, sometimes defeats joy.

Often I shrink like the black words of that wet book,

Quietly turning inwards,

Until again I’m awoken by pomegranate smiles and a bird’s quarrel.


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