I see, in you, a part of the world that is beautiful. And I really do hope you see it too.

I watch you, head upon hands, back against Mother Earth’s earthy clutch,

Looking for the Big Dipper, and for Orion’s Belt, and then for Sirius.

The sheer gorgeousness of what lurks up there, above us,

And below us, and while dear friend Gravity stops us from falling –

It is all mirrored in those eyes of yours. And I really hope you see it too.

Your eyes are black, like space, but I see in them little flecks that

My mind perceives to be stars. I will make of them constellations, and while I do

Will you stay here a while – just as you are –

In this, our dual orbit? Can we rest here a while, with stars in our eyes,

As we quietly, furiously hurtle

Through Time and through Space and through all these days that fall just like dominoes do

Illuminated by Venus’ burnt orange glow; by the ebullience of the way you smile?

God made you. This I know to be true, and the evidence is you.

The sun just continues to burn; she is so angry and so beautiful.

And Mother Earth spins, spins. We’re just so used to all her spinning.

Moon kisses sun goodnight; reigns radiantly above her empire in spite of darkness.

And we, too, are part of this universe; it runs through our souls and through our veins,


And I see, in you, a part of this universe that is wonderful.

There’s just something about you that makes all its vastness seem so

Small, so simple, so… like it is not ever-expanding, and like it is never spinning.

Slow, certain,

Lit up like tea-light stars. Like orbiting beings reflected in orbit of your iris around its pupil. And I know:

We can count on Space to be kind to us. Time, perhaps, not so much.

I prefer what is cyclical, really. Pilgrims encircling Ka’abah in Makkah, and hurricane spinning around epicentre. Time is just too linear.

What we lose, you see, always has a way of coming back to us – cyclically –

Granted that the core is sturdy enough. Burning sun, or large black cube, or vacuum pupil.

 Orbit person,

Human galaxy,

Would you care to rebel against tyrannous Time with me,

even if only for a little while?

Will you remain, right here, just as you are,

Finding comfort, somehow, within the terror of all these planets and moons,

The black holes in our stories,

And what they might all tell us about the meaning of us? 

Sadia Ahmed, 2020

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