Delam barashoon tang shude 

It always feels good when the blood family comes into town–then you could build motes with your sole brown hands in the desert, and whisper a surah in a baroque church–i am presentable–sports coat, black slacks, one sock white, the left one black and on my knees–with the family there, I’ve revealed my skin–en masse, curved noses multiply–by witnessing the side of their faces something normal begins to ensue within me–in the stares, my vulnerable skin becomes safe in a leather clutch pressed to the side of me–just like the woman walking opposite, clutching her purse to hide her riches as we near–when the sun goes down the church is dressed in christmas lights on 16th street–from our car, songs play on loop–trance techno recurrs–in it there’s a boy’s prayers–he’s twelve, and sings of war grief like a young American girl whines for candy–I forget the comfort I experience when vowels are twisted into oblivion–I can understand 50% of this language–it terrifies American men, or opposite, they consume till they empty–the unknown, the incantations, the words, the twists–are witchcraft incarnate–terror works better in multiples–prayer is when Dari comes out of a cousin’s mouth–through dying words the dead have the potency to live–as we miss our great grandfathers–and the club has never felt more full–inside me, the alien is tucked in the most human, fetal position in the pit of my irritated stomach–feline New Yorkers’ sense of smell is palpable in a glance–hierachy is potent in cities, obscured in clubs–but family can diffuse my worries of blows–the bass in the song above us is A minor bombs–the spirit of the wet room is foreign both ways, in or out of borders–and in the corner a blood thirsty man–nose ring, leather vest–thinks we are very cool because we stomp our feet–he likes the howling of pretty birds in exhibited containment. We grip the handles, we scratch the glass.  

Delam barashoon tang shude 

↓ 

My heart has become tight for them 

(or, I miss them) 

HAROON KARIM 
GRADUATION YEAR: 2026