The Thing Poem by Sayed Gouda

Something here,
dimly lit,
calling me.
Enchanted, i walk for it
with heavy steps
and glassy eyes.
A thousand clusters around me
and no one to fill my cup.
Bored of circumambulation,
no house in sight, no stone.
Where are the garments of pilgrimage
Did i really wear the pilgrimage garments?
Or did i forget,
as i forgot to say a prayer today?
A prayer of those knowing their ignorance
a prayer of those ignorant of their knowledge
and they will never know.
The typhoon, no doubt, is coming to the city
to uproot the trees,
break the heart of my window,
and break me.
i got used to my defeats
because i got used to life;
she got used to me
like our eyes getting used to darkness
when the rays of light are suddenly cut.
i got used to life.
The typhoon will go in two days;
i'll get up, collect the broken glass of my window,
go out to the city to buy bread,
milk, some fruit, and a sheet of glass,
and search in people's eyes for something,
dimly lit,
calling me.
Enchanted, i walk for it.

2 September 2008