Poetry: [Omens in the History of My Family]
From the Blog noorsplace [Omens in the History of My Family] Spilled salt on a tired marble floor was a bad omen in our household protected by the pleads of women in the language of God. I was running out of luck but forgot to say Astaghfirullah at the sight of the ashen luck of salt. To be young was to have the privilege of denial. My mother fed every uninvited crow sitting on the walls of her house to secure her floating daughters' fates. My late grandmother wouldn't let milk escape its pan when boiling to keep her falling family prosper. Our mothers learned to fight the unseen. Their battle of faith wasn't to redeem a victory; only for the safety of what meant the most. I flinch at every sight of crows assuming they'd peck at my luck if they're hungry and never put the milk on raging stoves in caspakistanblogs.blogspot.comRead Full Post
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