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Nuri - Rain and Embers

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Book:
Rain and Embers
Author:
Nuri / Ali
Publisher:
Lions Den
Genre:
Books / Religion
Year:
2019
Rating:
3 / 5
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Rain and

Embers

Ali Nuri
Rain and Embers. Copyright 2019 Ali Nuri All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. Ali Nuri asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. Ali Nuri has no responsibility for the persistence or accuracy of URLs for external or third-party Internet Websites referred to in this publication and does not guarantee that any content on such Websites is, or will remain, accurate or appropriate.

Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks, and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book. ali-nuri.com LCCN: 2019911021 ISBN 978-0-578-55554-6 Ebook ISBN 978-0-578-55149-4 Hardcover ISBN 978-0-578-55900-1 Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Edited by Elizabeth Catura Book Design by Emir Orucevic For Jeffar
autism does not define you
nor do mute reflections
render you speechless
you spoke in smiles,
the only words
worth hearing Contents be like a flower
that gifts its fragrance
to the hand that crushes it
Imam Ali Ibn Abi Talib

To Be a Murmur

I hid my voice it sounded wrong the way it said my name I hid my voice they said not to speak in the native tongue of my mother I hid my voice not all tyranny is the same I hid my voice they told me not to say such lies that the Holocaust had long since gone that they've learned much since then I hid my voice it gave life to atrocities in distant lands in camps torched to ash I hid my voice it only sang of sorrow and sadness had no place I hid my voice it dared to make me human if they had only wanted to listen I hid my voice but I havent forgotten how to move my mouth to form the words that weigh heavily on my chest

The Undesirables

though my lips are dry, the taste of alcohol still lingers forgive me, ancestors for I had thought them waters of divinity gods and deliverance found in the bottom of bottles but I'm still sober with horror please grant me the serenity to begin on the right side of where I had been left born to shifting sands, I am a flower without roots learning to bloom in the wind carried across sun-kissed deserts, a king exiled from paradise I wore my father's sins how dare he stand as a pacifist without a choice rising to fight against Saddam's tyranny, evils ugly face though the Iraqi Shia lost three revolutions time couldn't age them, restless they never became fear couldn't silence what pride couldn't tame though it coursed through their veins lions without a kingdom nomads without a home Roma reborn riches to rags to stitched-together tents made of trash the wealth of refugees can't be measured in what was left to burn in unholy flames towers of Babel scorched Babylon but napalm couldn't torch a righteous wisdom passed through the centuries lingering inside unwavering DNA the swelling voice of Imam Hussain Shia refusing to bury belief, to find solace in safety, to drown salvation in unjustified peace our ancestors from nearly 1400 years ago marched from the ancient past to stand by our side, not to fight a hopeless war but to continue a struggle against hate monsters masquerading as kin demons preaching torture the mutilation of innocence in hands not meant to hold anything except for a plea asking for redemption, humanity's absolution

Cultural Chimera

I have two names speak two languages a refugee of two places struggling with being the wrong ethnicity twice over in the eyes of my roots and where I am asked to bury them torn between east and west sun and moon an eclipse that doesn't get to witness the magic of its being resisting against the image of supposed impossibility, delaying its birth furthermore the unity of two without conflict an omen that even in darkness miracles are born

Scorched Earth

I found your redemption in the love you have for her your daughter, my sister half my blood but the whole of me and yet I never forgot the red glow, the way you made grey metal burn bright with anger, the way it seared my skin the incineration of my innocence no, I never forgot the pain felt in the short seven years leading up to then still feel somehow nearly three decades in Im sorry I want to try and remember only your smile to keep only your faith in me and bear witness to the father you are in her eyes

The Devils Music

in eyes, I saw how an iris comes to resemble a nebula the patterns like sonnets a universe from darkness, shadows into life the color of green when only ever witnessed were blues

Wisdom

green grass as vast as a blue sea yet 'neath the soil the stench of decomposition reeks the color stained a dirty brown maggots, worms, and centipedes a thousand ghoulish creatures gorging themselves on dead flesh the withered and discarded remnants of a life that only ate light

Sumerian Wings

eyes rise and fall, bidding farewell to forgotten ruins an almost towering city now resting only in memories yet somehow still perched between two rivers Babylon offended ancient Mesopotamian gods upon reaching to repaint a moonlit indigo sky wishing to dress the heavens with beautiful vivid petals fragile flowers meant to be worn as colorful dresses hanging elegantly on the curves of fiery, radiant, naked stars newfound Eden withered away becoming lost to time twice now humanity has been exiled from promised paradise, a third when a refugee fled the garden attempting to escape a serpent clothed in the skin of a tyrant a reflection peers from within salted waters reminiscence of home a Tigris leaps on another beast branded Euphrates they still run on a yellow wasteland my desert-colored skin

Eve and Her Mother

beautiful childless desert and a flower is born humanity, too, follows suit a silent womb no more birthed from her or him earth or god no matter the architect be it mother or father the womb should have been a tomb she is much older now, older than her age he dies a myth, an absent father watch them wither away into dirt into dust into sand

Ode to Your Wings

dear you, flying out of sight, too close to the sun, you who did not burn orchestra in remorse the song of a butterfly between two fragile wings I hope that when we fade our secrets stay with us, stay with us in the grave hidden away beneath the dirt, beneath our lungs, buried deep within the earth let time make them ancient, let them rot with the passing of years for the truth is not meant to be shared people will always be strangers even if we've made them a home within our souls I'm afraid of waking up to a world where you see and I am not what you saw

Fantasia

I close my eyes and the dream begins anew they're all there too every human soul just as they were before yet even in this place beyond the reach of time beyond the scope of space they remain broken tiny voices in the dark shadows in the light symphonies without an audience a stage, a sound

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