ABSTRACT
(Title quoted from a poem by Joy Harjo) Nights have a special place in our awakening. It’s from the night that we came. Wandering. Who’s the Believer then? Shall we pray in the dark watches of the night when daylight shows only misery: the practice of tahajjud, in the darkest night. The day is all lime-sprinkled. Laundry Soaking like our hearts in fear. Disinfectants Wrapping us as we seek barakaat. Shab-e-Baraat, Shab-e-Baraat -- the Night of Forgiveness flowers faster than flames. Send us dua, night birds sing. Send us the extracts from your Lailat-ul Dua, the sap of your deeds, say day flies stuck on human spoils. Amid EMI flats and concrete rises Burnt smell of broken hearths Footfalls driven out of homes. See how our past catches up with us. Make this the night of records, for every night. The day of gathering bounties each day. Call the spirits back. Today, my eyes like Christ’s eyes cannot find enough moist earth to rest the wounds of my people. (First published in tinfoildresses Spring 2021)
