A Black Song

I—a melody seeking rhythm

I keep notes of how pains

morph when in love.

busy like the shimmering rays

licking flower buds,

sneaking into windows,

running into pages of hopes inked in despair.

Like the feet tapping earth from slumber

like the streams running into hulls

like the morning crow spilling into ears

I'm a staccato. A note in symphonies

of dirge.

I write names in the rain

and the flood swooped my brothers.

I'm a lyric sieved

into dua crawling off father's lips.

I'm a song. I'm a mirror.

I'm a prayer thrown into constellations

& my mother awaits starlight.

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