All My Rage

I see now that
you were always two halves of a whole, two hands interlaced, two voices raised to a melody sung in time.

As he is a steady oak, Noor Riaz is a breeze, warm and powerful and gentle, come to weave her song with his.

My teacup is empty by the time I’m done, and the mountainous horizon fades to a blaze of desert scarlet, like someone’s scattered poppies across the sky