Imperfect Ghazal on Weightless Living

Hannah Edelman / Connected ArchivesPoemImperfect Ghazal on Weightless LivingA poemBy Ayesha AsadJune 21, 2026, 12 PM ET ShareSave for my fatherMy father’s hands flapped in a spiral of smoke—a weak light. What did I dream then, a child drenched in image? Sleek light,falling honeyed rivers, purpled fruit. What did I need to imagine my body, calm in migration? I wanted to seek light.Dawn sank into my hands like rain. I wanted to evaporate & ask God to reveal my face. I wanted to speak light& watch the earth settle into being. Each splash of wilderness unraveled into clean, solid lines. From there I would leak light.From there I would take flight, my body sloped & pliant in this arena of disorder. But in the dark beak of nightthat light still shivered. The world with its oblique tilt.

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Excerpt limited to ~120 words for fair-use compliance. The full article is at The Atlantic.