At the street corner
I tied a black ribbon
a quiet way to say
I’m mourning
I hung a travel prayer
entrusting the memories to the wind
Pinned to my chest
a charm
wide enough for a thousand nests
and one bird
who died
when they bombed the charm
Now my cloud shelters ash
At every corner
I tied a black ribbon
to say
the street is in mourning
The grocery weeps for the house
The mosque’s minaret cradles
a thousand homes
stacked on top of each other
rushing toward the sky
The bell of Jesus
dreams of ringing again
but the church’s dust is a shackle
The cross has fallen
And Jesus
he is finally freeAt every corner
and among the rubble
I tied a black ribbon
to say
my heart is in mourning
for the friend
the home
the brown pine trunk
like my lover’s eyes
and the shadow of my mother
kneading memory
into dough
to bake it in an oven
fueled by strands of silver hair
As for me
I’ll simply say
the streets and I are in mourning
I don’t know for how long
but one thing’s clear
this grief has no end
The entire road
has turned
to ash
