The Leftfield Mullah

Sorry for going AWOL , hope this poem makes up for it:

Fitr
So we are poured by the slipped sight of moon
Billion craned to the red singed sky
Dropping from 30,000 feet of Sawym head
Hitting the asphalt, nose to mat
Line by lane by line by lane,
Those of us who stuck dry our stomachs
And those of us who hid them
And all this because one man's tear
Pulled out a voice from the mountains
Wracking the artifice and shaking out "READ"



So, move on from scoff at dawn, Date at dusk
Take some of the mechanism of the Month
The jolting guide rail of the sun
The ease with which you collapsed your head
The heave with which you raised your hands
And apply.

By Ali Naqvi

Copyright LeftFieldMullah 2005