And somewhere from across the roofs
a voice called my name;
maybe it was God…incognito.
The skies of Kirkuk
smiled back in Turkish…
And the dome of the tomb of the sacrificed soldier
shone in the rain
where doves danced to the drumming of drops
as if to make light of the grave questions
It also rained where Jonah
had laid his head to rest.
That was in Mousl,
and the dirt road around his shrine was as ancient
as the twisted finger that pointed towards it.
The mosque's windows gathered all of us close.
Our faces whispered words of warm nourishment
and it was copious!
Father closed his eyes in the shade,
and we crouched at his feet to steal the love
he so generously generated…
We finally stood for the family photo
of a lifetime…
The beams of teeth and stretched eyelids was genuine
despite the camera’s clicking attempts
at discrediting love…
It persisted…That was love in Northern Iraq…
