Thursday, 10 March 2011

Red Wood On Barrow

Red wood chips today,

I thought you might like them.

Today I work the soil here,

Four years since I pressed you in

Frail as the shroud you wore

At the pit for you and I

Rights shared, shoulders shaken,

The sigh as I lifted myself out.

I came when I could. Weeds,

Growing in braids on your barrow

Time would not be right,

To change that, to mark you out.

I am here now, I can do this duty

Like you had me do that duty

So I work, cut and hew the earth

For the Sleeping Shah of voice and rhythms.

In your verses, your father’s verses you called

For the Cup-bearer to pour Kauthar for you

And as I finish I see your friend

Who hands me a jug of Zam-Zam water

by Ali A. Naqvi

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