The prayer room, was empty,
except for pictures of her favourite gods and their idols,

The house had slept,
although her laughter, her voice,
could be heard from a distance,

The house didn’t smell of spices anymore,
And the aroma of her cooking which brought a smile to everyone walking in,
Had disappeared.

I wasn’t hungry any more.

I lit the lamp, and I turned around and called out her name,
Forgetting for a second that she is gone,
And my heart filled with a pain that felt like a knot,
weighing me down
For the house didn’t feel like a home
And her son didn’t feel like a child anymore