(Dedicated to Hassan, my last drop of tear)

If you read text like you sip wine- first with your eyes,
and then, the heart

You’re bound to be intoxicated by the written word.

But in that moment’s worth of peace-
whilst he who’s died a thousand deaths

dies another and this, his last

Consider it a privilege- that of having known life.
And to have it known in the words of those who’ve lived— not enough.