I sleep next to your dead body.

You look so beautiful now that you’re no longer in pain.

SHROUDING CEREMONY BY TALA ABU RAHMEH 34THPARALLEL MAGAZINE ISSUE 15

I love you when there is no noise, when

the roof on top of us doesn’t matter, when we don’t need stars

that haven’t shone in thirteen days, to taste the beauty of the sky.

You look so beautiful now that you’re no longer in pain.

The veins in your face have settled down and the ash of bombs no longer 

bothers you. Your toes and legs no longer itch for air, and your frown 

has let itself go.

I love you when I’m no longer scared of you dying, when I no longer

have to get close to you at night to make sure you are still breathing, 

when I know the fight, I never wanted to fight, is over.

Outside the dead are on the streets and I’m concerned with nothing but

shrouding you with the whitest sheet. Like kings of old Egypt you deserve 

nothing short of a wrapping ceremony. I want to wash every ounce of your skin

with lavender and warm your eyes and fingers with hot oil.

Outside a baby …