After Noon Prayers

 

 

Most days my sight
avoids the intersection
of creation and sorrow.

 

Others are standing there.
I see them; they are caught mid-step
by the weight of loss.

 

Grieving in Mogadishu;
running as Rohingya;
neighbours on the other side of my heart.

 

Oh, that I could run.
Together we could kneel
before One who knows the hours.

 

We would cry
for mercy.

 

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