Morning
a lamp waiting
to be rubbed awake
It took me
a lifetime to see
I had no
Alladin fingers
only sleep so long
all desire was gone
Noon
a prayer room open
even for agnostics
I went close
only to lose
what could never
be mine
The door yearned for long
but the believer forgot home
Night
a surahi for evenings
cut short
It kept pouring
in the dream
I kept waiting
for morning
The rescuer-djinn’s long sigh
sounded like a lullaby
***
Madras Courier originally ran as a broadsheet with a poetry section. It was a time when readers felt comfortable sharing glimpses of their lives through verse. If you have a poem you’d like to submit, do email us at [email protected].
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