There is a black hole
where the last memory of a lover resides,
you call, unaware, that they’ve died 40 days back,
The speakers ring with subtle hope, inna ma al usri yusra*,
the evening prayer fades into torture cries
ringing from the same speakers.
There is a gaping hole
where images of twisted young bodies
are yellow under incandescent bulbs,
where blood trickles
from perforated backs and unseeing eyes.
~ Saadia,
On the day Shahid left us to embellish this massacre with our words
*Arabic: Verily with pain comes ease.