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)