Sama (the poem)

Chords, loves and signs
there is some sound
in the soul’s eye,
silent yet loud

blue tambourines then
floating red harps now;
all as one, circularly
enchanted as the globes’ Zikr
our prophets (as) repeated.
Hands and lips smacked by
Tenderness itself,
we play invisible violins
and cosmic Neys
by the lovers’ earand lo!
they sob of all their emotions’ grace,
following the course of longing
and depth, they shed themselves
to wear the subtle Cloth;
cloaked in its glow,
they dance and chant
in the language Djibril (as)
taught the saints (as).

copyrights 2006 Aida Toure

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