The Skardu Valley

Masked in
Gray and brown
Ancient
Shale dust

The winds that flow through
The cleavage of your valley
Are soft like mother's fingers
When bending pie crust

At night
I slept in the center of your
Naya Bazaar
And dreamt of lassoing stars

That night
Spent in your valley's heart
I closed my eyes to see the invisible
And I heard the voice of God

* Reprinted from 'My Hajj Collected Poems by Mekael' *
© September 20, 2011 by Mekael Shane