Her fingers in mine
a tied knot, roots unfolding
to become the sky
أتَلَمَسُكِ الآن
عتمةُ الليل في صدري
ترنو إلى النجوم
My poem begins
with an ache to touch her skin
and ends as prayer
Night is a canvas…
with the candle’s light I trace
the lines of her face
Rooted in Love 