The familiar sound of her voice scraped against my soul to only leave remnants of past memories shuttering back and forth in my head
It was scary that night
It felt as if a tornado had ripped through me, slicing open the wounds that she had left behind for me
She had left a bloody mess the last time I saw her/ creeping back into my present/
Her body adorned in the attire of the Gulf sent shivers up and down my spine/ for I do not know why she has chosen to come back to see me
Had she made the wrong turn in the afterlife? Had she slipped and fallen back into time? Motioning her way back into what isn’t
I remember the way she would belt Arabic across her tongue at the break of dawn
and the way she cried litanies with hands raised high to the Most Merciful, Most Gracious
Had she come back to relinquish the past? To uproot what was buried?
I remember her. The way that Ayahs and surahs would flow so eloquently from her throat to be heard by all in the heavens.