Your mureeds come to me and say
“Your father was in my dream”
So you revert to your mystic ways
Tied to your golden thread.
You’re writing yourself into me.
Adaptation and reversion
Into things you wanted me to be
And things you could never foresee.
But you stay away from my dreams
For some reason we can’t talk,
Though that may be more than it seemsAnd your sufi soul needs expression, still.
By Ali. A. Naqvi
(Peeri/Mureedi is the South Asian tradition of holy men ( peer) who have devotees ( mureeds)
NOTE This is the beginning of a cycle of twelve poems written that explore the relationship I had with my father. I call this cycle the Twelve Moments. This may be personal but please comment. Also, the order is going to be chronologically backwards on the blog. So the last poem to the first. The aim is to walk back through my life to the first moment from the most recent. If you're reading this, you're at the beginning of the cycle.