by Raie H. Thira


With a swift exhale,
I pushed out the relief,
and fear.

Untouched words
expelled from my body
in a jumbled mess of jargon.

Thoughts mimicked
piled-up cars
on narrow and crowded
sidewalks of Beirut’s inner cities,

As her stern face
Turned soft
With the peace and comfort
of a warm Mediterranean breeze
on an even warmer summer’s day.


Why do I feel like I lost someone?

I’m still here
I’m still me.
Yet, I grieved,

while the relief,
and fear,
vanished into thin air––
I grieved.


Standing still
dressed in the night
as tall strangers

with pungent perfumes
and white veils,

pucker up
––three times.

“Allah Yerhama,” they say,
god have mercy on her.

This work appears in Khabar Keslan Issue 0. MEDIUM.