The Moor
This is what I see:
a grain of wheat in the hand of a small boy
barefoot on the unnamed roads,
sleeping in the dream another is having.
An oud, a violin, a guitar,
a mirror of dew,
a man about to undress,
a woman staring.
A traveler
returning
everywhere
and forgetfulness
stealing from itself.
Maktoub, the Moor says,
we hold clouds in our mouth
and imagine God in our breath.
Copyright Credit: Nathalie Handal, "The Moor" from Poet in Andalucia. Copyright © 2012 by Nathalie Handal. Reprinted by permission of University of Pittsburgh Press. All rights controlled by the University of Pittsburgh Press, Pittsburgh, PA 15260.
Source: Poet In Andalucía (University of Pittsburgh Press, 2012)