Trace
If should the sky the rain withhold, could there be greater loss?
And were my eyes with farewell cold, could there be greater loss?
No longer do I carry you to soothe or kiss your cheeks.
If would my hands now rest and fold, could there be greater loss?
The eyes still burn, the heart is gripped, yet I am still content.
For had his mercy not consoled, could there be greater loss?
He traced with ink a line for you — your start and end decreed.
Had he erased the love I hold, could there be greater loss?
How many gifts I longed to give, to earn your little smile.
Should you refuse this piece of soul, could there be greater loss?
Though I left you within the dirt, I hold you in this chest,
Had I forgotten you, Maryam, could there be greater loss?