Displacement

This is a piece I have always wanted to write. not when I was inside it, not when the feeling was too loud and too close, when emotions clouded reasoning, but now, when enough distance has settled that I can finally lay it down without it burning my hands.

Wren’s heart is deeply faithful. when we lived in the same building, I never once saw him miss a prayer at the mosque. not even Fajr. no matter the hour, he was always there.

I met him when I was around eighteen, and we remained friends from that point on. he has one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard in Quran recitation. our conversations were light. he was gentle, considerate, quiet. a pure soul. he did not have many people around him, at least that is how it felt to me.

About This Series

This story is about the gentle collapse of Wren, and I’m watching it all from a distance.

Wren is someone I’ve known for a few years now. the kind of person who doesn’t take up much space in a room. he’s older than me, a little more worn, a little more faithful, not just to God, but to the version of himself he’s been holding onto since long before I met him.

Why I am writing in English and not Arabic.

There is a guilt that comes with it. shame on me for writing in English while being Arab by mother and father. I have never fled to a western or European country. I was not obsessed with western movies, in fact I barely watch movies at all. I accidentally watched two movies in the past two years and that was it. yet I am still influenced by the west. that is simply the reality of the world we live in today. influence no longer requires migration. it travels through knowledge, through the internet, through science, through code.