Browsing All Posts filed under »Ash«

Ash by 7ala Abdullah

March 8, 2014 by

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I stole your hands the first time I touched them, gripped your fingers in mine and refused to let loose. You couldn’t even be mine then. Your eyes were still learning the roundness of my face and you were a visionary, a vision, and I was looking for something to put my faith in. You […]

Ash by Raghad Al Rijraji

March 8, 2014 by

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Maybe endurance chose us so we can familiarize ourselves with our family car’s leather backseats. The same ones we’ve cracked from fidgeting; unwilling to assume the role of towing behind. We’re such perfect candidates to carry endurance. I swear. We’ve claimed so many roadsides as ours, for the rush, because we’d gone from 15 to 20 […]

GUEST PIECE: Ash by Ahmed Al Majid

March 8, 2014 by

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Autumn is the sound of leaves changing colors. Autumn is the scent of a good kiss. Autumn is the sight of magnificent golden forests. You were always mesmerized by the phenomenon of autumn foliage. It is a peculiar thing, isn’t it? It is, perhaps, the most beautiful natural death that there is; at the end […]

Ash by Nora Abdullah

March 8, 2014 by

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I would like to let you know the heroes that were going to save you have disappeared.   Darling, Your eyes have dried out and you’re way too young.   You’re a child and I’m not a child anymore.   You were a fire burning bright, and I hope the little spark in me reignites. […]

Ash by Mimi

March 8, 2014 by

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I know people have loved you, simply by listening to me talk about you. The way I call your body: Home.   You are the sun creeping through my cloudy heart, but darling, there will always be rain inside of me.   I’ve donenothing more than write novels about you, about how your hands fill […]

Ash by Daliah Al-Shurman

March 8, 2014 by

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My eyes are as dead as my soul-mates’ laying in their deathbeds. Their tombstones read syllables as faded as those in the veins shooting down my arms. The blood in me feels thick and heavy, still almost. I remember my mother pleading “Most days, I wish I’d never met you. It was then I could […]

Ash by Rania Ghazal

March 8, 2014 by

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An apology letter to myself.   I am sorry that I warmed myself with a fire that was not burning for me. But the cold was feeding on my limbs and my edges were turning rough. The lake on the dip of my back was turning into ice.   I am sorry I looked at […]