Song on a Winter Night

Song on a Winter Night

Allah,

let me offer songs and paper boats

at your house of prayer,

so submarine

my song pure as a wound,

and my boat crafted in blue 

To friends

who call me a recluse,

I say,

I never wished

to let the season of flowers

pass me by,

 

but most of the time,

I am hunting for clues

to

what went wrong

with my sense of smell

and

my sense of sound.

Allah,

what was it?

those blue

    electric dancers of the sky,

their footfalls

belong to another time,

drenched and distant they

forget 

my name

and I forget my prayer

on the night

of crisis;

the shoreline disappears.

Allah,

let me be the song

sprinkled

at your altar, so submarine

a song wounded by winter,

a boat learning to speak.

.