BY FALEEHA HASSAN
Dedicated to my friend Mason Hassan Kamuna who was killed during the Iraq-Iran war in 1985.
The sky actually was blue
The streets were more spacious
Women were sitting on the thresholds of their houses in the afternoon
Telling amazing stories to each other
The cafes were full of men’s laughter
My father smiles as he tells her
Don’t take Faleeha to the hair salon
Give your hair the color of the sun
And leave the glamour of night to my daughter’s hair
She smiles back and says
Her name is not poetic
If it were me, I would change it
We all laugh
My mother was more compassionate
She would say
Eat from one plate so your emotions will not be lost
And like ants on a candy bar, we would gather together
Oh, my friend
After your death
The world wore a garment of dust
The war had swept away the thresholds of our homes
Women now wear worries
Permanent sadness
Cafes are bustling with the songs of false victory
Men’s voices are hoarse from smoke
And from drinking scorching defeats
Oh, my friend
Your death spread the snow color on my hair
If you had stayed a little bit longer
You would have seen how my name was won
But death betrayed you
As it did my mother
And my father as well
All their advice fell on stone ears
Our lives filled up with wars, poverty, and exile
When I shout
Oh father,
Mother,
Brother,
Sister,
There is no echo coming back
And regret bites my heart
Oh, my friend
Can you stop your specter from dancing in my memory
Give me ten minutes to sleep
The smoke from the plane that killed you
Suffocates my days
This is great. Faleeha. I congratulate you. Hug you. Celebrate you. One tiny correction. In the beginning you have a father tells her. But no mother antecedent. Can you say father tells mother or mom. I love this poem. Write me! Check out Tinder on my website. Let’s talk