In every carved doorway,
a story waits.
I pass through arches
as if passing through
my grandmother’s hands.
From A Poem A Day: Middle East & North Africa

366 poems day-by-day for a leap year

In every carved doorway,
a story waits.
I pass through arches
as if passing through
my grandmother’s hands.
From A Poem A Day: Middle East & North Africa

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