I remember the last Intelligence War,

How I awoke in dreams.

To the wars, the bombs,the fires, the wreckage, poisoned and safe under a sheild of owl- soft lavender-slate gray wings raised by a dark, stressed & belabored soul in black.

I was too injured to move far at the time- but I curled closest to the shelter of the curl of his Wings and purred close to his slateish primary feathers,

…not knowing if he could even feel it.

The bombs dropped around us as he held up the sky for me

    Today, I show him the broken heart I hid since the 17th of September.  He was quiet and he just wrapped his coat around me as I played his favorite song over and over to block out anyone & anything else that tries to harm us.

Brother, please
open your coat
and hide me from
the rain
we were both promised
an umbrella that never came.
And they wonder once again
how I survive
without being drowned
in the deluges
others create.
And all I can smell
is L’bateleur & You
A memory is always
stronger
than a fiction

or a Dream.

“I love you, I love you not,”

He said, almost biweekly

Both of us endure this

for years upon years
Then I understood
why Molana called love
both an addiction & disease
he caught it from his Shaykh
Whom had no desire to find a cure
Because destroying hearts,
although terrible Adab,
was excellent
In Regards
Institutional
share holders
& Donor Profit Margins