Ramadan Sonnet: Town


for Abdallateef Whiteman, village architect

An adobe wall, dust by dust, is built up
to surround the town.
A trail enters it from
desolate and wild surroundings.
A cut-off from the unpredictable and
unkempt in nature is made, a

The town is constructed, brick by humanly
molded, hand-packed mud brick,
making house-walls, rooms, wood windows,
doors, then roof-beams, tiles to
catch and let rain
run off to the
newly formed cobbled streets. Then

lights go on in the houses. Passing from
room to room. At the
domestic centers: multiple radiance.

Winding lanes lead in jagged labyrinthine ways
to the center, past
bow-legged pillars of the
marketplace, selling-stalls under
provisional roofs,
concatenation of courtyards, rushing

to the central square, where an even
stronger light is displayed. And when

we arrive
there is nothing. At the

heart of the town is an
openness, so
tasty and
sensual as to be almost a

thing. Bright air. Intangible, unnamable, but a

definite apprehension. And there is
light there.

Such is the
self. Such is the


19 Ramadan (night)

Categories: Ramadan / 'Eid