Dreamcatcher #1.

Royina, I’ve heard the moon can still be seen,
From a corner of your terrace
In the oldest colony of the city.

The full moon.
The blood moon.

Shines, like a nightmare
And its cold light washes the tip of the mosque,
Beside my house.

Royina, there is a song my grandma used to sing,
When I was just a kid.

It said the moon is a land of miracles
And an old lady sits in
One of the craters
Waving her wand.

Royina, tonight is not the night, of the sane.

Full moons, have never been the muses of poets

They are darlings of the wretched.
They are the lovers, of wolves and the insane.

Who have learnt to live with cold moonlight, in their veins
All these years.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s