A moment passed

The wind I had felt was by no mistake,
Yet you lay on me, as a rose petal
Would drift down the Tigris night
Upon milky waters,
Between the forgotten seasons;
Where the spirit is intoxicated in divine limbo.
And I beg the sun to lose my self through the sky,
A thousand droplets, a thousand prayers,
A thousand pages, a thousand doves
To keep you aloft?
This is how I blushed upon your cheek
Naked before the world.
Between the banks of an ancient Song,
Where poets lost themselves,
She drowned in me.

Now I rage, rage against time,
To carve a canyon where humanity will
Lose itself!
How will you shout
Through my encompassing emptiness?
Match my dust with tears and prove me wrong!
Oh to be once again
A seam in the sand…
At the mercy of morning dew.
Shout and sing from the depths
Of my empty tomb.
Only a stranger can feel
And call upon this past to ruin.
How many generations do I call forth?
How many will then dig for truth?

A Window sort of Frame

One day I sat in a wooden frame
That I found in the attic,
And as I thought all stills the same,
I set out to frame some music.

And what trouble did it seem,
To make this fancy true,
That I didn’t think of a likely thing
And think of a window!

So I took a hammer and the frame
And thought of every sound
That never could be heard in dream,
But could be by a window found!

I dedicate this poem to siti (my grandmother) who spends long hours by a window reading the Quran, or watching us children play. I love her greater than life.

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