For Habibullah Heban
Your words crawled through my ears
writing new lyrics on my eyelids.
Sometimes while we sleep,
God speaks to us in dreams.
You were gentle with me,
like a Shepherd to his sheep.
Sometimes life is easier when you
think sleeping and death are kin.
Last night, you came back to me.
No darkness ever surrounded you—
a bioluminescent bay of beginnings.
Maybe back then, we could've built a home.
Take the wood from my forest,
prepare and quiet place to pray.
It has been eight years since
I heard your dulcet voice.
They say you will never open
your eyes again. You will
no longer be my Somali Oud player.
Who will sing me a Balwo tonight?