Baba still reaches me in my sleep
I still hear his stories of war like shrapnel to armed fantasy
My dreams never survive
Each nylon string like barbed wire
Each melody a cry he never learned to escape
“why are you trying to make me return?” he asks
“where are you taking my blood?”
I retrace our lineage of shared bullets
From the one that claimed my friend
To the one that claimed his
I question it’s intention but lead won’t speak
I archive my memory
“For Allahs sake, why do you feel the need to return?” Baba pleads
But I can’t return where I was never seen
Where cousins await trial beneath ground
Where mother still wakes with a sharp pain of longing for those she knows are destined to leave
I still remember nights with her face pressed close to mine
My loose breathe on her cheek a reminder I’m alive
I still pretend to sleep
I still perform with her memory
On a stage in a dream
Or a stage that feels like a dream
There I have no face
I have no ending
But, for a moment, I have a place
And every witness
That pities, that applauds, that breaks
Their love, however wide, will never make a way
There’s no where to put it down when they disappear
There’s no home to escape to when I’m all bones & fear
I don’t remember returning
Why would I ever come back?
I never wanted ink this black
Or a voice this sad
Some days I wished to whisper
But whenever I found Baba
At any age
On the floor, on the dinner table
In every voice he raised
He took me there
Dreams ablaze
He took me there
The doctors gaze
He took me there
Mamas sharp pain
He took her there
Every weekend spent
In each room we met
I cannot return where Baba never left
Every chord an obituary
Each harmony a congregation for the dead
With every strum, they gather, waiting to be led

If only I could just sing like them
About palm trees & those who chose to leave
Those who can choose to return again