My grandmother used to sing this. Words of a beautiful poet put to the saddest song. But this is the sound of mashreq. Sorrow music. I sat on my bed tonight, playing this over and over. And I cried hard. Rocking myself to the rhythm of distance.
And for a moment, nothing made sense. Twenty two years. None of it. Except the heaviness of loss. I wanted them here with me. All of them. Even the ones who took flight. I wanted them here, in this room. Telling me to release it all from my bones.