bismillah

i awoke to a flood
of vowel sounds.
cursive, satin tongues
as fluid as our last kiss.
a scorched earth song
that opened me like a gift.
i couldn’t make out the words
i just knew it was You.

You are the root word
that all of our names come from,
7 billion syllables whispered
in our sleep. some days it’s just
static in our radio hearts.
i want to know a hunger so deep
it turns the dial to Your frequency.
i want to know a language
that sways like the humble tide.
my every breath is kalimah.

(i’ve never felt the need for a broker,
but i’ve never met a prophet i didn’t like.)

fashion an altar that smells
like September, a quiet veil wrapped
around my swollen lips,
cement eyes, fragile ears
the only thing i can lay
before You is questions.

why would i rather count the hairs
on his arm than the jewels in your throne?
why does his voice fill me like iftar?
Insha’Allah, i will crave him no longer.

strip me down to my longing
until it is only Your name i can pronounce
write my sins across my tattered stomach
and remind me they are all just invitations
for salvation