On God’s Green Earth
There’s always going to be ‘just too much’, if you can’t divorce yourself from your damn job.
Writer’s Choice
The Burden of Perspicacity
I have a support group made up of parents who have lost a child to suicide. We all want to know WHY…
Auntie rarely talks about
The numbing aftershocks as four farm families buried sons in closed caskets, automobile rubble robbing her last chance…
O’hara
He washes under cold water and his sins clog the drain. Blocks of black bakhoor burn by the mirror filling the bathroom with the scent of the Kaaba.
You Can’t See Me
The bus, like all buses in Hyderabad, smells like lemons… and people. Landlocked and sweltering, Hyderabadians have developed an affinity for citrus.
A Learned Man
I was ten years old when I concluded my grandfather was illiterate. I approached him with one of my books one day…
Pilgrimage
You stand at edge of the hole that your mother dug for herself — not for you — but still. You peer down, at the stairs planted into the dirt wall…
Jubilee
A leaf breaks through the rainy mist and spirals to the gravel. “Nick, look!” Bria’s gaze follows the rock face up to where its peak hides in the fog.
Paddling Toward Peace
Today I will lay him to rest, scattering his ashes in this extraordinarily beautiful setting.