your hair sprawled out
across my bed
as if it swam
upon the surface
of the sea.

you looked up
with coffee-colored irises
and asked me,
"how on earth
do you fly?"

you giggled breathlessly,
as if your mirth
were a brook,
bubbling eternally.

we both looked back
up at the screen.
a tiny figure
in a red cloak
and hijab danced
aimlessly, flitting
across the sand.

a scarf twisted
over her shoulder
in the wind, drifting
with the twisting koi fish,
glowing. her journey
was only beginning.

a hooded figure,
all in white,
came alongside her.
his scarf seemed
to stretch as far
as the eye could see.

he'd been here before.
fallen down an abyss
of his own design.
died and rose again.
he returned
to lead a friend,
hoping she'd find
her own way out alive.

as they soared
wordlessly, they seemed
to skip across the skyline,
their scarves intermingling.
alone, they'd remain
trapped in a daze,
lost in a maze of dunes,
trudging endlessly.
but, together,
struggling—surviving—
they somehow made it out
in one piece.