The Shape Of A Gentle Light Poem by Yousif Ibrahim Abubaker Abdalla

Imagine a tiny flame that never quite learned to blaze just there to provide warmth, like the gentle morning light resting on weary rooftops. It's like laughter that escapes through cracked doors, or a child's innocent voice that doesn't know how to tell a lie. It's the essence of simplicity walking among us, not just a word, but like water effortlessly carving its path through stone, or air filling our lungs without a second thought. It's a voice that turned into a bridge a quiet, kind bridge spanning the gaps we've created between colors and names. It's like someone uttering the word love, and love reverberating back. Like someone saying love, and love coming back around. Like someone proclaiming love until even silence started to believe in it. It's like a tree standing tall against toxic winds, like a drum that beats solely for unity, like rain that falls on every face without picking sides. It's a soul that never performed only sowed seeds of gentleness in a world too quick to harden. Planting… planting… until hearts began to blossom without ever questioning who nurtured them. Like a flame fading into the unseen, like a sunset gently slipping behind the horizon, like a song that concludes but never truly departs. We say: to God we return but "return" feels too small a word for a soul that transformed into a sky. O land that holds the echo, O people who cherish the light, grieve like rivers grieve the rain not in absence, but in the memory of how deeply it once nourished you. And still still the warmth lingers, like a whisper in the ribs of time, like a gentle fire that simply refuses to extinguish.