To the land of cemeteries
Dispatching Rainbows that end abruptly.
Led by a body charioted by Quranic verses
The sons followed.
As they dig and scratch the pavements of my streets to find pipes
We dug Hollow Grounds beneath a crumbling fortress to lay the memories of the father,
Surrounded by the grieving, the living, and the opportunists.
The sons live on
The sons now touch the ground,
They will plant future seeds.
Fathers next to fathers
Next to spouses and brothers
Next to sisters
Next to loved ones
Next to those swept by history.