The experience of thwarting death’s grasp, of preventing it from snatching your child away, is a visceral sensation that ...

On the margins of death, loss, and profound sorrow, I find myself today reflecting with a curious intellect: Why, O God, must ...

In Their era, the face of vitality has darkened with gloom. Our days are twisted by despair and regret. The spirit bleeds, ...

A fragment of my early childhood in Aden is etched in my memory; some recollections come easily, while others elude me.

What we endure is fragmentation, hunger, and loss. Our sighs and groans break our spirits as we lament: We once had Yemen; we ...

Time passes, dear Father, as we struggle against formidable adversities. After a long period of quietude, decades have slipped away. Souls that once found solace have emerged anew from the rubble—like ...

As my father’s age began to wane like a setting sun, trailing its pale red remnants, the mountain sighed with its sorrows and memories, heavy with longing, pain, and reproach.

“Hashem” is a name that weighs heavily upon my shoulders. It is the fourth name in my identity, yet it has become a battleground. Here, those intolerant of the name “Hashem” clash with those who hold ...