Burn Away

I. I walk upon what ceases to remain, Where neither wall nor beam was spared. I walk on broken glass of windowpanes On a night when no one else seems to care. I cannot tell a soul to protect my name, This house holds with it a burden of shame. I recount many a dream of this day, This rubble, this pungent smell in the air Of rage, agony, and sullen clouds of grey. I witness the aftermath of my nightmare. As I walk through the remnants and traces,...


Fire In My Belly

Reflective thought is utterly addictive. The mismatched colorations of my most vivid realizations and the caviler notions of my shipwrecked self are often enough to leave me consumed. As of late, I’ve been ruminating over a particular conversation. Dialogue highlighted by misplaced anxieties, a dream’s fragility and advice drenched in gold. My friend and I sat in a small coffee shop while the melodious hissing of espresso machines and overcast chattering of other customers filled the vaulted room. “You can’t have your cake and eat it too!”, she solemnly...


Prophet Muhammad’s Dream

Imagine the anguish of pincers repeatedly tearing your cheeks apart. Imagine lying on your back and having a large man looming over you throwing a boulder at your head and the agony head being smashed into pieces. Imagine the torment of being trapped in a very hot oven and every time you try coming out, fire erupts and you just go sliding down. Imagine swimming in a river of blood for eternity and every time you try getting out, a man thrusts a rock into your face and shoves...