Theme: Love


After we connected
with the echo of the gospels, broken hymns
Arabic thought
after we weaved the finest of tapestries,
the holy spirit, Attar's flock of birds
shattered the illusion of self-portrait,
silence was never an option, the history of my wounds
mirrored the pain of your self-inflicted cry,
and my voice broke its fast to tell you
the moment I began to love you
was when your poems made me realize
what happened before
didn't belong to us.


More By  :  Roger Humes

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