Vigil Pantoum

Some nights, I go to the masjid

to unbox the burden in my body

to Allah & I sit on the cold ivory

tiles with crossed legs as in yoga

To unbox the burden in my body,

in my heart, weighing me down on

the tiles with crossed legs as in yoga

like an anchor mooring a ship to harbor.

In my heart, weighing me down,

is a red flow of lacking & yearning,

like an anchor mooring a ship to its harbor

& my chest is a loudspeaker housing palpitations.

The red flow of lacking & yearning

is what I’m asking God to turn into a flow of honey

& my chest which is a loudspeaker housing palpitations

is what I pray with, giving reverberations to God’s ear.

What I’m asking God to turn into a flow of honey

is my intravenous grief that I’m knitting into prayers.

What I pray with, giving reverberations to God’s ear, is fear

of grief marking my people absent in the attendance of life.

My intravenous grief that I’m knitting into prayers, is

a caffeine or amphetamine making me insomniac.

Grief marking my people & joy absent is why

some nights, I go to the masjid.