Behind You Is the Sea

by Susan Muaddi Darraj

If all we are is past, who are these millions now gasping for air?

There suddenly didn’t seem to be any pleasure in packing his opinions into a bullet and firing it into his listener. He believed, so strongly right now, that he would rather hurt himself than insult this woman.

he was a monarch who shrugged over the victories and blamed her for the losses.

It’s not that dollars don’t grow on trees. Maybe they do. But we don’t even have trees in our neighborhood.

“Behind you is the sea. Before you, the enemy.” I glance at him then continue. “You have left now only the hope of your courage and your constancy.”

But he’s going on about being inclusive and how we have to listen to everyone’s voice, except he’s just ignored mine.

“sometimes people just have to take your word for it. It’s like someone stepping on your toes and not moving off. Do you really have to explain how the pressure is causing you pain?”

I think you’re beautiful. Your gray hair like steel, the wrinkles at the corners of your eyes, the shuffle in your walk—it’s the purest beauty I’ve ever seen.

“Food is love. You have to pass your love into the food,”

“They were terrible,” Sits said, nodding. “But it’s good to remember. So you can look at your life now and say alhamdulilah.”