Tuesday, February 15, 2011


the sky is radiating rose and ochre,
night is even now spreading her gown.

I have the shortness of this hour
to say what must be said,
to reveal what is hidden within me

before darkness shrouds this fleeting life forever.
And I—no surprise—feel frozen in my fear.
No words are coming, no thoughts, no epiphanies.

Night is coming. Allah is waiting.
Have mercy, Beloved,
may you deem the desert of my distress a fitting gift.

For I have
nothing else of value to offer

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