Masked in
Gray and brown
Ancient
Shale dust
The winds that flow through
The cleavage of your valley
Are soft like mother's fingers
When bending pie crust
At night
I slept in the center of your
Naya Bazaar
And dreamt of lassoing stars
That night
Spent in your valley's heart
I closed my eyes to see the invisible
And I heard the voice of God
* Reprinted from 'My Hajj Collected Poems by Mekael' *
© September 20,2011 by Mekael Shane
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem