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Of Righteousness and Sin


At dusk,

I take my prayers

and cradle them to my heart,

watching them slip into volant arrows

from my papery fingertips

and                                                                                             slink up a tree,

where they flutter, untethered

and groan into the undulating leaves.

After they dust grit off their wings, they rise –

flaunting grimy veins and enriched bark – and

float past the ocean, where turquoise sea-glass

puckers their starry bodies.

Mujib’s wizened stump corrugates, bows its head

as they pass by, and I wish I could hear its soft, keening wails.

When they reach the clouds, the mist

folds itself around them, spraying out

golden, glistening tears.                                                         I imagine them

sucked                                                                                         into smoldering eggshells,

crackling with flame,

their stellar mass

disappearing into

heaven’s ravines.

Ayesha Asad is a writer and college freshman with an eclectic variety of interests that include painting, reading, and singing. She lives in Texas, writes for her college newspaper, and hosts a radio news show. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Blue Marble Review, TeenInk, and Skipping Stones magazine.

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