Friday, 15 July 2011


(sixth moment)

He marked. “You stop to breathe here”

Line. “You hold the note here.”

Dot. “You break this lyric here.”

Again. “You raise your voice here.”

He was teaching me The Poetry

The deep heart rote rhyme

Of soul running, of love, of rhythm,

Of divining dreams out of time.

In the mosque that night

I read but he said nothing

One of the believers said

“The line keeps going.”

By Ali A. Naqvi

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