Thank you! Your submission has been received!
Oops! Something went wrong while submitting the form.
Nur Turkmani
Passengers
after the ceasefire, on the flight to Beirut
I’m not religious, no,
not even sure about spirituality,
but when the plane rises,
each time it lands,
I have this sense of indebtedness—
or is it gratitude?
I whisper the words
my mother whispered:
in the name of God.
Everything rests on this flight,
though the babies continue to wail.
Of course there’s fear.
We’re alive.
There’s much to lose.
Look at the sky, how endless,
and the breath carrying us through:
we’ve come from somewhere,
and we’re going somewhere too.