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

Noor. Noor.” You are light. You are goodness. You are better than what you’ve been given. I should have done more for you. I should have done more. Oh, forgive me, my child. Here as I go finally to God. Please—please—please—

“Forgive—”

Me.

An old nursery rhyme.

Ten rocks we shall break

One rock soft and raw

Child of a deer!

She escaped into the water.

Escape, Noor. Escape like the deer.

A strange sound filled my head, loud and unrelenting. Like a flood, like the rushing wings of a flock of starlings.

“If we are lost, God is like water, finding the unknowable path when we cannot.”

I am a ship in her sea, tossed in the storm of her mind, her ever-shifting body. Broken apart, drowned, resurrected, and destroyed a dozen times over in the space of a few minutes.

I met Noor’s gaze as she observed me. Her eyes imparted calm like a river at a gentle ebb.

They were small, careful birds, chirping in a language only they knew. A language of pain and memory